By any other name
by StMatt
Summary: “In a world that don't know Romeo and Juliet, Boy meets girl and promises we can't forget. We are cast from Eden’s gate with no regrets. Into the fire we cry.” Dean’s deal and how a starcrossed lover from his past comes into play. Explicit content
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Aside from all the usual disclaimers... this story contains Extremely Explicit Violent and Sexual Content. (not wincest). The author in no way, shape or form condones violence to women. This story is written entirely for fictional and entertainment purposes only. You have been warned.**

* * *

She was small with fiery red hair and covered in tattoos, but all Dean could look at were her legs, long compared to her height. In 4" stiletto heels, she looked taller than her actual height of only 5'2" and her left leg had a dragon tattoo curling around her calf and up her thigh, breathing flames that shot upward on her inner thigh toward her lace thong. That wasn't all he noticed as she swung around the pole and bent directly over him to take the $20 out of his hand, red curls falling on his face. He smiled, drunkenly, up at her. _Damn, are those real?_ he thought to himself, knocking back the last of his beer. 

"Can we _go_ now?" Sam asked, walking up to the table where his brother was sitting. He waved off the waitress who walked up to him, expectantly. Dean looked at the empty bottle in his hand. Several more empties were sitting on the table. The redhead was strutting away, her set over. An older, Hispanic woman took her place on the pole. This woman was old enough to be his mother. Dean shuddered as the thought occurred to him. "Yeah," he said, glancing back up at the woman, then at the curtain where the redhead had disappeared, "yeah, let's go." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder as they walked out, seemingly in 'big brother' fashion, but the truth was he was too drunk to stand on his own.

They started for the door, but their way was blocked by a large, heavily tattooed biker wearing a green army jacket. They both saw the bulge under the jacket at the same time, but it was too late -- Biker Dude was already reaching inside and pulling out the sawed-off shotgun from a concealed inner pocket. The Winchester brothers dove in opposite directions -- Dean toward the tables near the bar and Sam under the dancer's catwalk. As they did, Biker Dude began firing, hitting the Hispanic stripper in the chest. "Stella!" he cried out in anguish.

_Stella?_ Dean said to himself, _who does this guy think he is? Brando?_ He looked over at Sammy. "You packing?" he mouthed to his brother. Sam reached instinctively behind his back for the gun he usually kept under his own shirt but came out empty-handed. He shrugged at Dean and shook his head. "No," he mouthed back, "You?" Dean shrugged back and shook his head, trying to shake off the effects of the alcohol and looking around for something they could use as a weapon against Biker Dude. _Damn, this guy's huge! How the hell are we gonna take him down?_ he wondered silently.

Biker Dude was now walking around the room, waving the shotgun in the air, throwing tables and chairs, as frantic patrons and waitresses scrambled to get out of his way.

Sam felt something warm hit him in the face, just over his eye. He reached up and wiped it away. _Blood_, he thought as he looked at his hand. The "blood" was pitch black. He raised up slightly and looked down at the dead stripper. Black ooze was pouring out of her chest and dripping off the stage.

_Bam!_ Directly over Dean's head. The sound made him jump and raise his arms over his head. Sam dove back under the catwalk. The bartender, who had ducked down when Biker Dude started firing, came up with a shotgun of his own, hitting Biker Dude in the back. The impact spun him around and now Dean could see his eyes -- solid black! Black ooze was pouring from the wound in his chest. The shot had gone clean through him but he was still standing. "Damn!" he said under his breath, "Demon!" He rose up and dove at Biker Dude as he heard the bartender pump his shotgun for another round. Sam tackled Biker Dude too, hitting him at the same time. The shotgun slid across the floor toward the backstage curtain as the three of them fell to the ground. The bartender came over the bar, his gun cocked and ready, aimed at the three on the floor.

_Bam!_ Over Dean's head again. _Stop doing that!_ he thought, looking over his shoulder at the bartender. The shot hadn't come from him. The bartender's shotgun slipped slowly out of his hand as he fell forward onto his knees. "Bitch!" he growled just before falling, face first, to the floor.

Flipping both Dean and Sam off him like they were horseflies, Biker Dude sat up and spun around to face his own shotgun, now pointed directly at him, black blood still oozing out both front and back wounds. Stunned, Dean and Sam watched, as he moved forward on his knees, tears falling from his eyes. "Stella?" he said in a near whisper, "Stella, please!"

The redheaded stripper was standing over him, still in her black stilettos and lace thong, a short, black silk robe tied loosely around her waist. Biker Dude's shotgun was cocked and ready to fire, aimed right at his heart. He reached out, but not for the gun. He was reaching for her. "Stella..." he pleaded. She leaned over at the waist, just exactly as she had done earlier to take Dean's $20 bill, her hair softly brushing Biker Dude's face. She reached out and cupped his cheek in her right hand, the gun balanced on her thigh in her left hand, still pointed at his chest. She brushed the tears from his face, kissed him lightly on the lips, whispering, "I'm sorry. I am _so_ sorry..." and pulled the trigger without even flinching.

Biker Dude fell back, dead this time. Dean and Sam, both on their feet now, stared, dumbfounded at the stripper who took two steps back, the shotgun still balanced on her left thigh, aimed at Sam now. "You boys better get outa here," she said, "The cops'll be here any minute." Dean started forward but she flipped the gun up, pumping it for the next shot with her left hand, her right hand holding Dean at bay.

"Dean, don't," Sam said, his hands raised in defense, the gun still pointed at him. Dean looked around at the now empty bar and the three dead bodies. He saw black oozing from all of them, including the bartender. They weren't moving. Still, he wasn't convinced they were really dead.

"Miss, I'm sorry, but we gotta salt and burn these bodies. They're dem..."

"Demons?" she finished his sentence with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. I took this job to flush them out. Poor Hector here just got in their way, is all," she said, waving the gun in the direction of Biker Dude, dead on the floor in front of her. "I tried to get him to leave, but they got to him. Too bad. He was good in the sack." She backed up to the stage behind her and climbed up with a bit of effort for her height, never turning her back on the brothers. Jumping down had been easy, getting back up was a little more difficult for her. "And as for burning the bodies -- no need. Silver bullets forged from an ancient alter cup," she added, raising the gun over her head. She turned and ran backstage, grabbing her keys and her purse on the way to the back door. A siren could be heard pulling up to the front of the building, where Dean's car still sat. Dean and Sam bolted after the stripper and out into the back alley.

Dean caught up to her and grabbed her by the elbow, "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, "just who are you? Are you another hunter?" Moving quickly and without turning around, she caught him in the groin with the butt of the gun, then turned it on Sam who stopped in mid-run and reeled backwards.

"Hunter? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't like guns and I don't like killing, but I'll do it if I have to, so _back off._" She opened the door of the red 1965 Mustang parked in the alley and tossed her purse in, glancing back at the dark strip club. "Too bad this gig had to end. Money wasn't that bad. Made $300 off you alone," she winked at Dean, still on the ground, as she started up the Mustang with a roar and peeled out of the alley.

Sam ran to Dean's side and pulled him to his feet. He was still doubled over from the blow to the groin. "That bitch!" he said under his breath, "I swear I'm gonna..."

"Get out of here," Sam interrupted. "The cops would've heard her pull out. We gotta go!" He pulled Dean around the corner, just as a policeman stepped out the back door, looking toward where the Mustang had gone and away from the corner where the Winchester brothers now hid in the shadows. Sam put his arm under Dean's and helped him around the building to the car. With the policeman still in the back, they were able to slip into the Impala unnoticed, Dean curled up in the passenger seat, Sam behind the wheel.

"That bitch!" Dean said again, handing the keys to Sam, who took off in the opposite direction from the Mustang, the black Impala disappearing around the corner just as two more police cars came screeching up to the strip club. Sam looked over at Dean. "Three hundred dollars?" he said.


	2. Chapter 2

"So I found out who Hector was," Sam said, entering the hotel room holding two cups of coffee. Daylight shone in behind him. "He was the leader of a gang of bikers, real hard core. They were into running guns, ammo, even wanted for a couple of bank robberies."

"Hector?" Dean asked, reaching for the coffee Sam held out to him, still holding an ice pack on his head with his other hand. He was sitting on the bed of the hotel in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt, another ice pack on his lap. He winced slightly as he leaned forward for the coffee.

Sam smirked at his brother's pain. "Biker Dude from last night," he reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, right. The dead boyfriend." Dean replied. "But did you find out anything about the _redhead_?"

"Stella." Sam said. "Not much. She just showed up out of nowhere one day. Hector's friends all say she put him under some kind of spell or something. He was _nuts_ about her. Like, literally crazy."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean said, standing up and reaching for his jeans. Then it dawned on him just who his brother had talked to in finding out about Hector. "Wait a minute! You talked to a biker gang _alone_? Never do that without backup, Sammy!"

"It's a good thing I got to them when I did!" Sam retorted, pouting a little, throwing clothes into a duffle bag as he spoke, "The police were right behind me! They're going after her, Dean! We've got to get to her first. Once the police are done talking to them, they're gonna try to kill her! She's one of _us_, man!"

"And just how do you expect to find her?" Dean asked, zipping up his jeans and sitting down to pull his boots on.

Sam put his right hand on the doorknob and reached into his back pocket with his left, the duffle bag over his shoulder, ready to go. Pulling out a small slip of paper, he said, "I've got the license number of that Mustang."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get the bitch!" Dean grabbed his own bag and his brown leather jacket. "One of us..." he muttered, as he closed the door behind him. He had his own reasons for wanting to find her.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot where a lone building with neon lights stood. Several women, dressed to the nines, were laughing and making their way to the door. _Not bad,_ he thought, smiling to himself.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, knowing what was on his brother's mind. "We're here for Stella, remember?"

"Right. Stella." The smile left his face at the thought of her. And she had been so _nice_ when she was dancing for him! He pulled the car around to the back of the building and quickly spotted the familiar orange-red Mustang. He wanted to kick it or smash in the windows, but that car was just too sweet.

"She's here," Sam said as Dean parked within sight of the Mustang. "Let's go inside."

They went around to the front of the building where a tall, muscular black man in black pants and a tight black t-shirt blocked their way. "Ladies night only," the bouncer said to them.

"Oh, but we work here," Sam protested.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in flashing a grin at the bouncer, "just starting tonight."

The bouncer looked him up and down and growled, "Dancers go in around back."

"Around back?" Sam asked, pushing Dean back the way they had come. "Sure no problem."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!" Dean protested at Sam as they rounded to corner of the building. "Dancers?"

They went up to the back door where another man was sitting on a barstool, reading a magazine. Unlike the muscular bouncer out front, this guy was scrawny, but he was still blocking their way to the back door, with his legs propped up on the door jam. Sam pushed Dean towards him.

Dean walked up saying, "I, uh, think I'm supposed to come in here. I just got a job here, uh, starting tonight."

The guy gave him the same once-over the bouncer had and moved so Dean could get by. He looked at Sam, directly behind Dean and said, "Sorry. No boyfriends allowed."

"Boyfriend?" Sam protested, a look of grief on his face. "No, I start working tonight too. I'm a, uh, waiter."

The man let Sam pass. Dean chuckled and grinned back at the man, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder, with Sam still muttering, "Boyfriend?"

* * *

Dressed in tight black pants and a bow tie with no shirt and holding a serving tray, Sam approached the bar. A tastefully dressed bartender with her red hair pulled back into a neat ponytail barely glanced at him. "What'll it be sweetie?" She looked him full in the face when he didn't answer. "Oh, no! Shit!" she said under her breath. "Get out of here!" she hissed at him.

"Look, we're here to help you," Sam whispered back. "Hector's friends are looking for you!"

A brief look of fear crossed her face, then annoyance. "Well, they're not getting past Mike Tyson out there!" she hissed again, referring to the bouncer. "Besides, I can take care of myself!"

"We got by him, didn't we?" Sam pointed out.

"We?" she asked, looking around nervously for Dean. She knew she'd hurt him pretty badly.

"Is there a problem here?" A tall, stylish, blonde woman in a dark pin-striped suit walked up to them. Standing eye to eye with Sam, she asked, "Who are you? I don't remember hiring you."

"No, no problem. Charlie hired him," Stella said to her. "It's his first night. I'll show him where his station is." She came around the bar and took Sam by the elbow.

"Charlie _knows_ all the new help gets approved by me first," the blonde said. "But you'll do." She stroked Sam's chest as Stella yanked on his arm, pulling him away.

"Okay, where the hell is he?" she asked, still hissing at Sam. _Staying Alive_ started playing in the background and Sam was staring at the stage and his brother, who had just been pushed out to the stage by one of the other dancers. He was dressed in tight white pants and a royal blue collared shirt, open to the waist, with a white jacket, looking like he had just stepped out of a bad 70s porn movie. Stella yanked on Sam's arm again, pulling him out of the laughing fit that was about to start. Women were whistling, hooting and yelling at Dean to "take it off!" while Sam and Stella made their way backstage. From backstage, they waved at a stagestruck Dean to get off the stage, while on the other side, one of the dancers said to another, "What a pity! He would have made a _great_ dancer! Just look at that body! Mmmmm, mmm!"

Coming to his senses, Dean moved backwards towards Sam and Stella, standing behind the curtain. "Sorry, ladies! Gotta run!" he said to the still screaming, hooting audience. Just then a gunshot rang out. Three bikers were standing in the front door of the club, one of then pointing a pistol at the ceiling. Having never seen Dean, they didn't realize who he was. They were too busy looking for Stella to care about a dancer with stagefright. Dean ran off the stage and he and Sam both grabbed her, pushing her toward the back door, grabbing their clothes on the way.

"Hey, wait! My bag!" she protested, slipping out of their grasp and ducking back towards the bar. Just as she reached the bar, two more bikers came in through the back door.

Dean looked at Sam, "We're being shot at and she has to stop and get her purse?" Sam shrugged and they ducked down and followed her toward the bar. The bikers had started on the opposite end of the room, checking out all the female patrons, now hovering on the floor, pulling up any redhead they saw and then shoving them back to the floor. _Staying Alive_ was still playing in the background.

Popping up from behind the bar, the sawed-off shotgun in her hands, Stella fired off two rounds, hitting two of the first three bikers, killing them instantly. "Oh, sh..." Dean and Sam said, simultaneously. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out two pistols, tossing one to Sam, who was closer to the bar. They turned and fired on the bikers who had come in the back and were now blocking their exit. Dean hit one of the bikers in the leg, as the other ducked behind a wall, Sam's bullet just missing him. Stella ran up behind them, a backpack thrown over one shoulder, the shotgun still in her hands. "Never leave home without it," she said, grinning at the brothers. A shot rang past them. Sam turned and fired back at the third biker in the front of the building. They were running for the back door when the biker who had ducked behind the wall jumped out, but before he could fire off a single shot, Stella hit him in the stomach with a single blast from the shotgun. As they jumped over the dead biker, Sam glanced down to stare into his vacant eyes, crimson trickling out of his mouth and streaming toward his ear. They ran past the doorman, also dead, through the back door to face a blazing fire in the parking lot.

"My car!" Stella screamed as the brothers pulled on her arms, pulling her toward the Impala. They knew that at least two of the bikers were still alive in the club. Neither of them had shot to kill. She struggled against them, straining toward the burning Mustang. Frustrated, Dean picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, now running for the Impala, with Sam running behind them. Stella was still screaming to get back to her car.

"Shut up!" Dean growled at her as he dumped her on the ground beside his car.

"Dean, they're coming!" Sam said impatiently, looking back toward the club.

Without hesitation, Dean hauled his fist back and hit Stella as hard as he could. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. Dean pulled Stella into the backseat and Sam threw her backpack in on the floorboard after her. He wrapped her shotgun in his clothes as he and Dean climbed into the front seat. Leaning over so they couldn't be seen, they heard two bikes roar past them. Starting up the Impala after the bikes went by, they heard sirens in the distance and then an explosion as the fire reached the Mustang's gas tank. Dean pulled slowly out, as if nothing were wrong. "We've got to help her, Dean." he muttered under his breath, "She's one of _us_, Dean! Jeezus!"


	3. Chapter 3

When Stella came to, she was bound and gagged, tied to a chair. Her clothes had been stripped off her, down to her panties, and she was wearing an unfamiliar white t-shirt, which was soaking wet. She struggled for a minute, testing the ropes, but they were pulled tight, wrapped around her body, tying her arms and wrists behind her. Her left eye was swollen shut -- the whole left side of her face was throbbing where Dean had hit her. There was a small gash under her eye from his ring. She looked around with her one good eye. Peeling wallpaper, two double beds, a desk and another chair. A cheesy motel room. The beds faced a TV that was on, showing the Skin channel, and the sound was turned up -- loud. The Skin channel? Jeezus, these guys were perverts! She could hear the shower running, but she was alone in the room. She struggled against the ropes again. She'd been tied up before, but never involuntarily.

Wiggling her fingers, she could feel her rings still on her right hand, and the hard metal of her silver necklaces on her throat. _Well_, she thought to herself, _they may have had their fun stripping my clothes off, but they didn't take my jewelry._

The door burst open and Dean came in carrying three coffees and a breakfast bag, humming _Staying Alive_, "Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive. Ah, ah, ah... ah, you're awake! Hey Sammy!" he called into the bathroom. "Get out here! Our guest is awake!"

The sound of the shower stopped and Sam stepped into the room for a brief minute wearing a towel around his waist. Not taking his eyes off Stella, he grabbed a pair of jeans off the chair by the desk and stepped back into the bathroom, pushing the door partially closed behind him. _It's not like I could see anything, anyway,_ Stella thought to herself, looking over at Dean with her one good eye. He turned her chair toward the bed next to her and sat on it facing her.

"Now, I'm going to take this gag out of your mouth and we're going to talk. Got it?" He asked.

Stella nodded, meekly.

Dean reached up slowly and pulled the bandana off her mouth, dropping it around her neck. When he did, she lunged toward him, biting him deep in the arm. "Arrgh, crap!" he shouted as Sam came running back into the room and grabbed her from behind. Pulling her loose from Dean, he held onto her head so she couldn't bite at them again.

"You bit me!" Dean said, astonished. "We saved your ass and you bit me!"

"You punched me!" she screeched at Dean.

"Yeah, well, you hit me in the groin!" he yelled back.

"And you tied me up!" she screamed at him.

From the other room, someone pounded on the wall, "Keep it down in there!"

Sam reached down and pulled the gag back up over her mouth. "Cut it out, you two! You wanna get us thrown out of here?" To Stella, he added, "Or someone to call the cops?"

Stella glared up at him but he meant business. Sam was standing over her in only his jeans, his head and his chest still wet from the shower. His chest was heaving slightly with adrenaline and he looked like he was about to hit her too. She looked away, not wanting to show fear, knowing he was referring to the shootout the night before.

"Ya know, for somebody who doesn't like guns, you sure have enough of 'em." Dean said to her, turning her attention to her backpack on the bed beside him. Reaching in, he pulled out two small pistols, the shotgun, a handful of Chinese throwing stars (at this, he raised his eyebrows at her, wondering to himself if she knew how to use them), and a butterfly switchblade with a Scorpion on the handle. Next, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, covered in black fur and dangled them in front of her. When he didn't pull out the black bungie cord, she realized that she was tied up with her own rope.

"Dean!" Sam snapped on seeing the handcuffs. He reached across her to the nightstand, where her purse was laying. Turning his attention to Stella, he said, "Just who are you, Stella? Or should I say, Susan? Or Mary?" he asked, flipping through her wallet.

She grunted at him, unable to answer with the gag back in her mouth. Dean raised an eyebrow, stood up and reached hesitantly for the gag. Before pulling it down again, he leaned in close to her face and said with a growl in his voice, "Bite me again and I'll punch your other eye out!" He pulled the gag away from her mouth.

"Rose," she said, keeping her head down. "My name is Rose."

Sam pulled the desk chair up close to her and Dean sat back down on the bed. They looked at each other, not knowing how to deal with this particular situation. Rose appeared to be human -- they'd tested holy water on her while she was unconscious with no effect -- but they'd seen her kill 3 men. She knew about demons, which likely made her a hunter, but she'd said she didn't know about other hunters. Of course, neither had they until they went to the Roadhouse for the first time. She was obviously a good shot, so Dean doubted she was inexperienced. Other than that, all he knew was that she was violent and unpredictable. Sam spoke first.

"Rose...," he hesitated, looking at her intently, "You killed three people. Not demons, _people_." He stopped, not knowing what to say next.

She turned her head so she could look at him, answering his intense gaze with her own. Her jaw set in much the same way he'd seen on Dean, her icy stare made him look down at his hands. With one eye swollen shut, this girl looked even tougher than before. Ignoring his statement, she said, "Right. And you're so innocent yourself that you walk into a crowded bar with guns of your own. Not to mention..." she looked down at the t-shirt they'd put on her, so wet it revealed all of her, the rope pulling it tight against her wet skin, "uh, where are my clothes? And, why the _hell_ am I all wet?" She directed this last question at Dean.

"Holy water," he replied.

"Right. Holy water." Rose mimicked him sarcastically. "What? Like you thought I was a vampire or something? So why'd you have to use so much of it?" she added.

Sam shrugged, a guilty look on his face, while Dean grinned back at her, "We had to be sure."

"And as for your clothes," he added, "We couldn't exactly leave _these_ on you." He picked through the clothes she'd had on the night before, laying on the bed next to her bag and held up a garter with another pistol, a throwing knife that she'd had tucked into her bra and a small black zippo lighter with 6 skulls and the word '_Corsairs_' written across it.

Still bothered by the fact that he'd played a part in the deaths of 3 men the night before, Sam spoke up again. "Rose, I don't know what we're going to do here. I mean, you killed those men and we --" he motioned to Dean and himself, "...we helped you escape." He had a pained look on his face.

"Self defense," she said. "You said so yourself, they were coming after me. What did you expect me to do? Roll over and play dead and hope they'd walk away?"

Sam just shook his head and looked away.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding solemnly. The bikers would have killed her if she hadn't killed them first. "Yeah, you're right. Sammy, they _were_ there to kill her. Sammy? _Sammy!_"

Sam had grabbed his head in his hands, leaning forward in excruciating pain. He looked up at Rose, his eyes wide, "You?" he said, bewilderment in his voice, "_but how?_" He shut his eyes against the blinding white pain shooting through his head, screaming in agony as he fell to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up on one of the beds, the one farthest from Rose's chair. His skin felt clammy -- cold and hot at the same time. He thought for a minute he was going to wretch, but swallowed hard against it. A cold cloth had been placed on his forehead. He grunted slightly as he tried to sit up, still reeling from the vision.

"Sammy?" Dean, who had been pacing the room since Sam had passed out raced to his brother and sat on the bed beside him, helping him to sit up. "Sam, what the hell? These visions have never knocked you on your ass like that before!" Standing, he reached for his pistol, aiming it at Rose. "What the hell is she Sammy? You say the word and I'll pop her right now."

"_No!_" Sam grabbed at his brother's arm. Still drunk from the vision and seeing double, he missed, but Dean lowered the gun. He turned to look at his brother, still sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the washcloth, looking down at it in his hands. "What!" Dean snapped.

Sam looked up at him, exhausted, his head spinning in confusion. "We gotta talk, Dean. Alone." He looked over at Rose, still tied to the chair, the gag back in her mouth. Her chair was surrounded with salt and there was a devil's trap crudely drawn out on the carpet beneath her. Dean clearly wasn't taking any chances. She was slumped over, unconscious again. "What did you..." Sam stopped as Dean held up a small pharmaceutical bottle. Chloroform. _Smart,_ Sam thought. He stood, unsteadily. Dean grabbed at his arm, but Sam brushed him off. He knew Dean was worried. Glancing at the limp Rose, tied up in the chair, she looked helpless now to him, no longer looking like a tough biker chick. His brow furrowed in pity and confusion. He pulled on a shirt and shoes and led Dean out of the room, locking it behind them.

* * *

Sitting in the farthest corner in the small cafe, Sam slowly sipped his coffee. His hands were shaking. Dean watched him, wanting to say something but he could tell Sam was clearly shaken by this vision. And it had something to do with Rose. Dean waited.

"She's..." Sam started, then hesitated, looking out the window. "I don't know, Dean, but she's got something to do with us -- with our family -- with _you_." He looked at his brother waiting for a reaction.

Dean just nodded, "Go on," he said icily. The thought that this woman could have anything to do with their family repelled him. Something about her made his blood boil.

"The vision wasn't that clear. Just... flashes. I saw her -- and you -- at the crossroad."

"I knew it! She's a crossroads demon! Sammy..." Dean hissed under his breath, starting to get up.

"No, Dean. No, she's not." Sam motioned for his brother to sit back down. "She's human, Dean. I know that much. And... there's more."

Dean sat back down, but he was twitching now for Sammy to tell him the rest. "What?" he snapped at his younger brother. "There's something you're not telling me, Sammy. What is it?"

Sam looked up at the waitress, who had appeared with a fresh pot of coffee. He smiled a sheepish smile at her as she re-filled his cup. Dean covered his own cup with his hand, waving her off. She shrugged and walked away.

"Dean, I don't know how she's going to do it, but this girl is going to save your life."

Dean sat back, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard his brother say.

Sam held his head in his hands, almost as if the vision were starting again. "You were -- will be -- oh, whatever -- you were at the crossroad..." He could see the entire scene again as he recounted the vision to his incredulous brother.

At the crossroads, Rose kneeled over Dean's body, shaking him, screaming his name. Lightning flashed, lighting up the darkness as rain pelted down on them. Barefoot, in a blue cotton halter-style dress that clung to her wet body, Sam recognized her blazing red hair and the crest tattooed on her upper arm. Lightning flashed again and she pounded on Dean's chest, trying to start his heart beating again.

Sam saw himself in the vision too, soaking wet, leaning on the Impala, Dean's voice ringing in his ears, _"Should've been dead a long time ago, Sammy."_

Rose continued beating on Dean's chest, stopping only to lean down to his face to listen for breathing. "Help me," she cried to Sam, who ignored her plea and just shook his head violently at her. "It's too late," he said to her, "_It's over_."

"No!" Rose practically growled at Dean, "You are _not_ dead! You can't be! Not after what I've gone through to keep you alive!"

"Oh, but he is, sweetheart." A voice came from behind her. The crossroads demon slinked up to where Rose and Dean were on the ground. Rose jumped to her feet. "Oh, what are you gonna do? You wanna make a deal too, honey? It don't work that way." The demon's voice turned sinister.

"I don't have to make a deal," Rose was saying. Sitting in the cafe, Sam held his head, his face scrunched up, still in pain. He looked at Dean, sitting across from him.

"I can still see it," Sam said to Dean, sitting wide-eyed across from him. Dean couldn't believe any of this. Here his brother was, telling him that the crossroads demon had won, that he was dead and that Sammy had given up but Rose was still fighting for him. It was all too much for him to take in.

"Well, then what?" Dean asked his brother, realizing this was Sam's most powerful vision yet.

"Then nothing. What happens next is just a blank. Until..." Sam paused.

"Until?" Dean prompted.

"You come walking to the car, Dean. _Alive_." Sam answered, his lips pursed.

"And?" Dean said, "You think _she's_ got something to do with it? But how, Sammy? How do you know you're not the one..."

Sam stopped him. "Because you're carrying her. In my vision..." Sam's voice trembled, still seeing Dean walking toward the car in the pouring rain, Rose's lifeless body in his arms. "In my vision, _you're alive and she's dead_."


	5. Chapter 5

Rose stirred slightly, and groaned, her body aching from being tied in the chair so long. She was lying on one of the beds, the covers pulled thoughtfully over her, a sickly sweet taste still in her mouth. The groan caught Sam's attention. She opened her eyes and saw him, watching her from the desk. He rose quietly and came over to her bedside, reaching over to the nightstand for the dampened washcloth laying there. Sitting as gently as he could on the bed next to her, he handed her the washcloth and helped her sit up, not saying a word.

Eyeing him intently for ulterior motives she took the washcloth from him and put it to the back of her neck, the coolness of it soothing her. The swelling in her left eye had gone down somewhat and she was able to open it slightly but everything was still a blur. "Bathroom," she said to him in a hoarse voice. He helped her to her feet, still not saying anything, and she leaned on him as he guided her to the bathroom. Pulling away from him, she reached for the door.

"Leave it open," Sam finally spoke to her. She peered up at him, trying to read his expression, but there was none. He shook his head, apologetically. "I'm sorry, but you need to leave it open." His face was expressionless, his jaw set hard, trying not to reveal anything to her, and his words were kind, but firm. She nodded and reached for the sink to steady herself.

Sitting back down at the computer, Sam could hear her wretching from the bathroom. The compassion he hadn't let her see filled his face. He wanted to go in and help her -- he remembered holding Jessica's hair back for her after a night of too much drinking -- but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He heard the flush of the toilet and the shower start up. Knowing Dean would kill him if he let her escape out the window, he turned his chair so he could see into the bathroom. Trying to keep his attention on the computer in front of him, he caught himself looking up, watching her silhouette in the bathroom mirror.

* * *

Sitting alone at the bar, Dean downed another shot of whiskey and slammed the glass back on the bar, a little too hard. The bartender eyed him warily and without needing to be asked poured another double shot into Dean's glass. _Poor guy's obviously in pain_, the bartender thought, _just like all the rest_. He'd heard all the stories, knew them all too well. It was obviously some broad. 

Dean ran through everything that happened earlier, trying to sort it all out. They had gone back to the room and untied Rose, laying her on the bed. "No, no, no, no, no!" he'd said to Sam. "How many people are already dead because of me? Marshall Hall? Dad? I will _not_ have another person die in my place! Not again, Sammy, never again, you hear me?" He looked at Rose, laying there helpless -- and beaten -- by him. _Oh God,_ he thought to himself. He couldn't believe what he'd done, or how the anger in him had taken over so easily. With only 3 months left, he was spinning out of control. He turned to Sam, "Just… just keep an eye on her. Don't let her out of your sight."

The bartender set another drink down in front of him -- a shot of tequila. Dean just glanced at the glass then looked up at the bartender, who shrugged and said, "From the lady over there." Dean smiled over at her, a shy, sad smile. "Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe next time," he said to her, tossing some bills onto the bar and getting up to leave. Walking back to the motel room, he knew what to do. _Don't let Rose know what's going on… and keep her away from the crossroads._ He shook off the feeling of dread coming over him and smiled before opening the motel room door. No need to let Sammy know how scared he was right now.

Watching Rose intently, Sam didn't hear the sound of the door as Dean entered the room. "Sam-my!" he said upon seeing where Sam was looking, a pleasantly surprised lilt to his voice. "Thinkin' with the downstairs brain for once, there, lil' bro?" Dean laughed.

With shock and embarrassment, Sam shook his head hard against the idea. "No," he replied coldly. "I just..." his voice faltered as he heard the sound of the shower cease. "I was just keeping an eye on her like _you_ told me to!" he hissed in a harsh whisper at his brother, his anger and frustration at being caught watching Rose showed on his face.

"Yeah, ri-ight," Dean grinned back at him.

Rose appeared at the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around her small frame, her arms and legs still somewhat shaky. "My bag?" she started to say.

Dean turned his attention away from Sam and looked at her. "What about it? If you think you're getting any of those weapons back, sweetheart, you're..."

"No," she interrupted him. "I had some clothes in there..." her voice trailed off but she met Dean's stare with her own. She steeled her body against the door frame, not letting him know that was the only thing holding her up.

Dean eyed her up and down, remembering the way she had moved in the strip club. Not taking his eyes off her towel, he reached behind the desk and handed her bag to her. He'd already removed all of her weapons and taken them to the trunk of his car. "Don't get any funny ideas," he said to her, smirking.

Glaring back up at him, not saying a word, she snatched the bag out of his hands and turned her back on him. He turned his back to her too, leaning on the door jam, his boot holding the door open. Noticing his position from over her shoulder, she said sarcastically, "I know, I know. Leave it open." Looking over at Sam, still sitting within view from the desk, she dropped her towel and reached into her bag.

Rose emerged again a few minutes later, wringing her wet curls with the towel. She was dressed in a black t-shirt and white cotton panties. From his new position on the other bed, Dean looked over and saw the words written on her shirt in rainbow colored lettering, "_I Kiss Girls."_

"Of course you do," he muttered to himself, still picturing the pole dance from the other night. He stood and started towards her as she sat down on the bed where she'd been laying earlier. Exhaustion filled her body and she looked up at Dean with tired eyes. He was holding her handcuffs in his hand. Glancing over at Sam, it dawned on her that she was alone in a motel with two men who were most likely criminals, and that she was unarmed and powerless.

"Oh..." she breathed in a quiet whisper, "please, no. Please..." She shut her eyes against the thought of what they could do to her.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Dean said to her, squatting down beside the bed. Rose opened her eyes and looked at him warily, then looked over at Sam, sitting at the desk. He shook his head, his eyes filled with compassion. Dean's voice softened, realizing her fear. "I promise," he said, "We won't hurt you, but we can't take any chances..." he added apologetically, biting his lip, sympathy for her filling his own eyes. He reached over and as gently as he could took her right wrist and snapped the handcuff onto her arm then onto the iron railing of the bedpost. With no strength left to resist, Rose leaned back onto the pillow, soon falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dean turned to his brother. "Anything?" he asked. Sam was scanning the computer, looking through police records for someone fitting Rose's description. With all her aliases and no ID bearing the name "Rose," all he had to go on were her tattoos, but they were very distinctive – the dragon on her left leg, an ankh with a rose and a blue scorpion on her right calf, what appeared to be a family crest on her left bicep, a barbed wire intermingled with Scottish heather armband on the right, a horned lizard across her stomach and a yellow rose on her left breast. With the exception of the crest, each tattoo appeared to be covering up, or incorporating, some kind of scar. Sam couldn't find anyone matching her description in any of the databases he hacked into and none of her aliases turned up anything either. 

"No. Nothing so far. Whoever she is, I don't think she's in the system, Dean," Sam answered.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.

"You trying Bobby again?" Sam asked him.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "it's worth a shot."

On the other end of the line, Bobby's voice sounded upset. "I'm sorry, Dean, but it's hard to recognize her from that photo you sent. What'd you do to the poor girl anyway?"

Dean looked over at Rose's black eye and the small butterfly bandage where his ring had cut her face, feeling guilty. "I... I didn't have a choice, Bobby," he said into the phone.

"Well, I've asked around about anyone knowing a hunter fitting her description and no one's ever heard of her," Bobby's voice came over the phone again. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Dean's eyes flitted over Rose's body again, noticing the two pendants she wore, standing out against the black t-shirt. One was silver, the other looked like some kind of bone with silver beads on either side of it. "Wait a minute, Bobby," he said, "I think I've got something else." He held the phone up, taking a snapshot of the necklaces, then said, "okay, I'm sending you another photo. Maybe this will help." He waited, holding the phone in anticipation.

Bobby finally answered him. "I'm sorry, Dean. Those are just standard protection talismans. One's African, I think. The other one looks like it may be Creole, but they're not uncommon. And, uh, does her shirt say what I think it says?"

Rose stirred, her arm pulling on the handcuffs in her sleep.

"Wait a minute!" Sam said, standing up and going over to look more closely at her hand. "Here, Dean, see if you can get a picture of her ring." He'd noticed the silver rings on her right hand before but didn't really think anything about them. Her pinky ring was just a plain silver band, but the ring on her thumb almost looked like it had writing on it.

"I'll try," Dean said, then into the phone, "Hey, Bobby, we're sending you one more. Hopefully you can make this out." He put the phone close to Rose's hand and snapped a photo of the ring on her thumb.

Receiving the picture, Bobby said to him, "I'll see if I can make out those markings and get back to you. And, Dean? Handcuffs?"

Dean snapped his phone shut, looking over at Sam. "He's looking into it. Have you ever seen those markings before?"

Sam squatted down and looked at the ring again. "No," he said, "I don't think so. Have you?"

"I don't know," Dean answered, searching his memory. "They look familiar, but I can't place it right now." He pulled out John's journal and opened it. "Maybe there's something in here we've just overlooked," he said. "I swear I've seen that ring before."

Rose stirred again and groaned slightly in her sleep, her face pinched, her eyes darting quickly back and forth behind the lids. She was dreaming.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose leaned on the Impala, her arms crossed in front of her. She had resigned herself to the fact that the brothers weren't going to let her out of their sight. "So, where did you say we're going?" she asked Sam, who was pumping gas while Dean was in the convenience store buying provisions.

"West," was all he said to her.

A sleek silver BMW pulled up at the pump opposite them and a woman in a dark blue business suit stepped out. Rose saw the woman staring at her and ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her left eye. The swelling had gone down but it was still a dark yellowish-green color and she still had a butterfly bandage over the cut under her eye. Setting up the pump so that it pumped her gas automatically, the woman kept staring, then strode over to Rose, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. She leaned in to look Rose in the eye and said to her, "You call that number if you think you need to, okay? Just remember, you're not alone." The woman straightened, looked directly at Sam then walked quickly back to her car.

Rose looked down at the card. "_The Underground/Women Helping Women_" it read, with an 800 number written beneath it. She turned and climbed quickly into the back seat as Dean came out carrying a brown sack in one hand munching on a candy bar in the other hand.

"What was that about?" he asked as he and Sam closed their doors at the same time.

"Don't ask," Sam said to him, looking over his shoulder at Rose, who was tearing up the card into tiny pieces.

* * *

"Looks like this is the place," Dean said as he pulled the car up to the curb in an urban neighborhood next to the highway. Up ahead of them, several men, mostly Hispanic, stood in a group talking to one another, some leaning on the concrete wall behind them, eyes closed, half asleep. The sun was just coming up over the highway to their left.

Sam looked around nervously. "Dean, I don't think we're just gonna blend in this time..." he was saying as he heard a noise from the back seat.

Rose had jumped out of the car on the driver's side and was running across the street towards the men. Dean and Sam looked at each other with the same thought, _Not again!_

Dean turned off the engine and they jumped out, each of them grabbing their guns and cocking them before getting out of the car. They walked quickly behind Rose, both of them looking around anxiously, hands in their jacket pockets.

A few of the men turned as Rose ran up to them, some of them calling out catcalls and wolf whistles to her. "Oh, we've got a woman that wants to join us! What'd you think you're doing here sweetheart?"

Ignoring their comments, Rose slowed to a quick walk, brushing past them to stand directly in front of the man who appeared to be in charge. The man looked to be about 45 years old. "Do you know who I am?" she said to him, turning so he could get a look at the tattoo on her arm.

Seeing the tattoo, he waved for the other men to be quiet. A few of them also recognized the crest on her arm and whispered to each other, word spreading quickly through the crowd, as they grew quiet, circling her and the man, but at a respectful distance. Dean pushed his way through them with Sam right behind him and came up behind her to hear the man say, "Yes, I know you. But what are you doing this far west, Mija?"

Rose answered his question with a question of her own, "Can you tell us what's going on?" she said. Dean and Sam stood directly behind her now, so close she could feel Dean's hand in her back, and the solid steel of the pistol. Still staring at the man in front of her, she reached her arm around behind her to place her hand on his, over the outside of the jacket, pushing his hand down. There was no need for the gun here, not yet anyway. He lessened his grip on the trigger, but didn't release it. Sam saw her action and lessened his grip as well, watching the crowd of men closely, looking for any sign of trouble.

"Friends of yours?" the man said, not trusting Sam and Dean.

"Yes," she answered him, not backing down from her question. "They work for... for the family. They're here to help."

Hearing this, the men in the crowd started mumbling quietly to each other, hope sounding in their voices. The older gentleman waved them into silence again. "No one can help, Mija," he said to her dejectedly. "Go back to Texas. Tell your uncle we've done all we can do."

Dean and Sam looked at each other over Rose's head. _Uncle?_

Rose persisted. "Maybe you have," she said. "But we haven't. And my boys here aren't ones to give up easily."

Sam realized that she was giving the impression that he and Dean worked for her -- for her uncle, whoever that was. He made a mental note that the man had said, _"Go back to Texas."_

Before the man could say anything more, a pick-up truck pulled up to the curb next to them. The man talking to Rose walked over to the driver. He came back saying, "Only 5 men! You, you, you," he pointed out one man at a time and they quickly climbed into the back of the pick-up, "you and you." he said. He turned to Rose. "Not here," he said to her. "The men don't need to hear the stories again. They're scared enough as it is." He led them away, back through the crowd toward the Impala. "My name's Rick, by the way."

* * *

Sitting in the truck stop booth across from Rick, Sam and Dean listened to his story. Rose sat next to him, her hand lovingly on his arm, letting him know it was okay to speak openly. Sam noticed that he spoke eloquently, sounding much like one of his professors at Stanford.

"I was born here, but went away to college," Rick said, almost in answer to Sam's thoughts. "I came back to teach high school... to give back to the community, but with budget cutbacks... well, let's just say a teacher who's a former gang member will always get the ax before anyone else." He had tattoos of his own on his forearms. Dean recognized the gang symbol that this man had killed at least 3 rival gang members, but he said nothing.

Rick continued, "Most of those boys out there, and they are just boys, were students of mine. All they want is _work_," he said. "An honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Why can't they have even that!" This last sentence was more of a statement than a question. He looked across at Sam and Dean, his eyes bloodshot from worry and lack of sleep. "But with what's going on, soon they'll just go back to the streets, back to their old ways of stealing and..." He put his hand to his forehead as the waitress walked up to refill their coffees.

"Breakfast'll be right out," she said. She eyed the foursome suspiciously, looking at Rose's face with the same intent stare as the woman from the gas station. Rose smiled up at her, this time pushing her hair back behind her ear instead of letting it fall over her face. Even with make-up, she was still unable to disguise the cut under her eye, or the greenish hue to her skin, but the bruise was finally healing. The waitress walked away.

Sam prompted Rick to tell them what had been happening to the workers.

"They're being killed, that's what!" Rick said, impatiently. "One by one, something's killing them off! And we have no idea how." The anger in his voice subsided into sadness. "If we could just figure out who -- or what -- is doing it, we might stand a chance. But it changes with every job. Sometimes it's a field worker, sometimes it's construction. But every day when we send men out, at least one doesn't come back."

He continued, "The papers all say it's a pack of wild dogs. But how do wild dogs make it to the 3rd level of a construction site? No, something else is killing these men."

Dean leaned in closer, "Did any of the men who'd been killed have a streak of luck before they died? Maybe came into some money, earned some kind of special promotion?"

Rick eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to understand what he meant. "You mean did any of the men make a deal with the devil and now the devil himself is coming after them?" he asked.

Dean sat back and he and Sam looked at each other in surprise. "Yeah, something like that," Dean said.

"No, no, nothing like that. These men have _nothing_ I tell you, _nothing_. And just what kind of 'special promotion' do you think an illegal field worker is gonna get? No…" his voice trailed off and his eyes became distant.

"There was one, wasn't there?" Sam prompted, seeing the change in Rick's posture. "Who was it?"

Rick looked at him. "No, you don't understand. The… the maulings had already started, and well… there was word that it was caused by one of the men out there -- that he'd made just such a deal." Rick stopped, eyeing the brothers. Rose squeezed his arm and he looked down into her blue eyes. She nodded silently to him and he continued, "... that he'd made a deal with some kind of demon for enough money to..." He looked over at Dean, who had sat up straight at the words 'deal' and 'demon'. "But, it wasn't _him_, I tell you! His little boy was sick, dying. So he came into money all of a sudden? So what? The lawyers did their jobs for once, that's all! He didn't -- he couldn't -- have caused this!"

"Well, how do you know?" Dean asked, "Because... well, what's out there..." he stopped as the waitress reappeared with a tray in her hand. She set the plates of food down in front of them, asking, "Do you boys need anything else? Or how about you, honey?" she said directly to Rose.

"No, just the check, please," Sam said, smiling up at her with a puppy dog look. Rose just shook her head and bit into her dry toast. The waitress pulled the ticket off her book and laid it down next to Sam.

Dean started again, "We _know_ what's out there. And what some people are willing to do..."

Sam looked over at Dean and added, "If we could just meet this man. If you know who he is and could take us to him, we'd really appreciate it."

"Take you to him?" Rick questioned. "Fine, I'll take you to him."

With that, the group continued their meal in silence.

* * *

Standing in the cemetery, Rick pointed to a headstone that read _Jose Garcia/1967-2007/Beloved Husband and Father_. Next to his name, a figure of Mary was carved into the stone, and there were fresh flowers placed in the urn that stood beside it.

"He was my _best_ friend," Rick said to them, tears coming into his eyes. "His son, well, several of the children, in fact, were sick from contamination from the nearby plant. They were dumping contaminated waste into the water, thinking it was far south enough that no one would notice. So the only neighborhoods hit were the barrios, south of the dumpsite..." he turned away from the headstone, unable to even face the grave of his friend. "Jose's son was the first to get sick, and..." he turned back to face Rose and the brothers standing over the grave, "by the time they figured it out, he was too far gone. Before he died, Jose and his family came into some money. So he could afford medical treatment. But it was too late..." his voice grew shaky as he pointed to the headstone directly beside Jose's.

_Richard Garcia/2000-2006/God's Little Angel_. The headstone had a smaller version of the same Madonna carving as Jose's and the tiny urn held the same deep red flowers, freshly picked. Seeing the name, Sam looked over at Rick.

"He was my godson," Rick said to them. He shook his head sadly and walked away from the gravesite.

Dropping Rick off in the run-down suburban neighborhood, Rose got out and walked over to the gate with him. She handed him a small wad of bills, folded up.

"No, no," Rick protested. "I couldn't take your money."

She pressed the bills into his hand. "You missed a day's work to help us out. You _need_ to look after your family," she said to him. As he looked into her eyes, his deep brown eyes filling with tears and gratitude, she added, "This makes us even. This way the family isn't indebted to you for your help." He took the money and turned to go into his house.

* * *

Later that evening, Dean and Sam were sitting alone in a local bar. Sam pushed the basket of food away from him and Dean reached over and grabbed several fries out of it. His own food was gone and he was quickly finishing the beer next to him.

"It doesn't fit the pattern of a crossroads demon," Sam was saying into his own beer. "I mean if the guy made a deal to save his son... his son's _dead_, Dean! It just doesn't make sense!"

Dean stopped eating and finished off the last of his own beer. "No, it doesn't make sense, Sammy. But something's killing these men," he indicated a stack of printouts of newspaper articles, with the headlines reading: "_Man Mauled by Dogs" _and _"Vicious Dog Attacks Continue"._

Their waitress appeared in front of Dean with a bag in her hand, "One veggie burger to go," she said, setting it down on the table and picking up the empty baskets in front of them. "Did you need anything else?" she added. Dean grinned up at her, but before he could answer, Sam held up a credit card, saying, "No, that's _all_." He stomped Dean's foot under the table as he said it and turned to smile at the waitress, "You take MasterCard, right?"

Still smiling at Dean, she said, "You betcha sweetie. Be right back."

She returned a few minutes later, handing the card back to Sam, but handing the receipt over to Dean. "You boys come back anytime," she said before walking away. Dean watched her walk away and looked down at the receipt and the phone number written on it. Sam stomped his foot again. "Man!" he huffed, wadding it up and dropping it back down on the table as he picked up the bag. After signing the bill, Sam scooped up the papers from the table and hurried after Dean.

In the room, Rose was sitting on one of the two double beds, leaning on her right hand behind her up under the pillow, flipping through a magazine on her lap with her left hand. "It's about time you got back!" she said, "I'm starving!" She dropped the magazine to the bed and pulled on her right arm, "And next time you leave me in the room alone, would you at least let me go to the bathroom before handcuffing me to the bed?"

Sam pulled the key out of his pocket and undid the handcuffs for her. He touched her on the shoulder as she stood up and she said, "Yeah, I know. Leave the door open. I'm beginning to think you just get off on watching me pee."

Shutting off the water after washing her hands, Rose pulled one of the chairs up to the table near the window. She reached for the bag Dean had set down and looked around, "What? Nothing to drink?" she asked. Dean reached into the grocery bag on the floor and pulled out a bottle for her, twisting it open. "Great. Warm beer," she sighed and looked into the food bag and then looked up at him again.

"What?" he asked with total innocence on his face. "It's a _veggie_ burger!"

She cautiously opened the wrapper and peered at the mystery meat on the bun in her hand. She bit into it. "So," she said, her mouth full of food, "I've been thinking about this demon and the deal Rick said Jose made."

Dean and Sam paused and looked at each other, but Rose continued, "And, well, we know what killed Jose's son, but what -- or who -- killed Jose?" She swallowed the bite of her sandwich and continued, "Maybe the deal wasn't to save his son, but to take retribution on someone?" Rose blinked at them and took another bite of her food.

Sam sat down at the computer, "She's got a point," he said. "Now that I think about it, I didn't see Jose's name on any of the articles we've got so far."

"If he's the one who made the deal, we _know_ what killed him, Sammy," Dean said, his mind on his own fate.

"Maybe, maybe not," Sam replied, still searching the computer. "Besides, we don't know for sure yet that he did make any kind of deal. You saw the gravesite. Fresh flowers, green grass. There's nothing to indicate anything… unusual about his death." He looked over at Rose, wondering if she should even be in on this conversation. They were looking into a possible crossroads deal, after all. He continued, "It's all just… _normal_."

"Yeah, too normal, Sammy," Dean said to him. "Something's not right, I'm telling you."

Sam found what he was looking for. "She was right, Dean," he said, turning the computer so that Dean could read Jose's obituary and the related story next to it. Rose got up and looked over their shoulders too, still eating her veggie burger.

"See? What'd I tell ya?" she said, still chewing her food. She read the headline out loud, "Local man murdered in his sleep. Doesn't sound like a demon attack at all. At least not the Hounds of Hell, anyway."

Standing over her, Dean looked down at her, "What do _you_ know about the Hounds of Hell?" he asked her nervously. He had the same thought Sam did. She should not be involved in this. The less she knew about crossroad deals, the better. "And, man! Do you have to talk with your mouth full?" he added, trying not to let her see how upset he was by her statement.

Either she didn't notice his nervousness or she chose to ignore it. "I've heard stories," she said, answering his steely gaze. She popped the last bite of the burger into her mouth, "And look who's talking about eating with your mouth open!"


	7. Chapter 7

Pulling up in front of Rick's house, Rose got out of the car first and went up to the gate. Dean looked over the top of the car at Sam, "I don't like it," he said. "She shouldn't be here!"

"So what, we're just gonna leave her tied up in the motel while we track this thing? Besides, Dean, this guy trusts her more than he does us," Sam answered him. "I don't like it either, man, but what else can we do?"

Rick's wife answered the door and on seeing Rose, immediately threw open the screen and pulled her in for a hug. "Richard says you're here to save us!" she said, "Come in, come in!" She ushered them into the house, hugging Dean and Sam as they entered too.

"That is not what I said, Emma, and you know it," Rick said, entering the room. "They were just asking questions, that's all." Rick shook hands with Dean and Sam. "What else can I do for you?"

Rose was shaking off the feeling of being hugged, when Emma put an arm around her. "Here," Emma said, "Come into the kitchen with me while I make some coffee." She looked at her husband with wifely authority, "You need to tell them, Richard. They should know the whole story." Rose looked over her shoulder at Dean and shrugged as Emma ushered her out of the room.

Rick motioned for the brothers to sit down and Sam sat in the chair opposite Rick, while Dean leaned on the doorframe of the hallway where Emma and Rose had exited. He could hear Emma chatting away and Rose's muffled, one-syllable responses.

Sam said to Rick, "We were just wondering… after you showed us Jose's grave… well, I did some research and the papers said he'd been murdered. What can you tell us about that?"

"Jose wasn't killed by those… dogs, or whatever. When word spread that he'd made a deal with the devil himself, several of the men believed he was responsible for what was happening. So they…" he stopped, his head dropping to his chest, "They snuck into his house one night and killed him."

"So the attacks started _before_ Jose received all that money?" Sam asked.

"Yes, about a month before," Rick answered, unsure of why Sam wanted to know.

"Rick, what can you tell us about the men who died before Jose was murdered? Did they ever work at the plant?" Sam continued his questioning as Dean leaned back in the doorway, still listening for Emma and Rose.

"I don't know," Rick answered. "I'm sure they did. We all did at one point or another. I worked there as a teenager myself. What's this about?" he asked.

"We're not sure yet," Sam said. "It's just a theory we're working on. You mentioned cutbacks at the school. Were there cutbacks at the plant too?"

Rick's eyes brightened, "Yes! Now that you mention it, there had been cutbacks at the plant. So it is possible that the men who died had worked there recently. But… why do you ask?" he still wanted to know.

"Like I said, it's just a theory," was all Sam would tell him.

Emma came back into the room, smiling up at Dean as she walked past him carrying a tray with coffee and cookies on it. She handed a cup to each of them and sat the plate of cookies down on the coffee table. Going over to sit on the arm of her husband's chair, she prompted him, "Tell them the rest."

Rose walked in behind Emma, holding her right hand against her body, palm facing inward. Dean took her by the elbow and escorted her over to the couch where they sat down. They both reached over for the same cookie at the same time, their hands touching as they grabbed it. Their eyes met and Dean instinctively pulled his hand away, letting her have the cookie. He turned his attention back to Rick. "What else do we need to know?" he asked, "What haven't you told us?"

"After Jose's death," Rick paused, putting his hand to his eyes, "after his death, the attacks increased. And…" he caught his breath, almost unable to get the rest of the sentence out, "we believe the men responsible for his death are the ones getting killed now."

"The papers said his killer, or killers, were never found," Sam said, leaning forward. "How can you be sure it's the same men?" He looked at Rick and then at Emma for a reaction.

Rick shrugged and clasped his hands together, "I can't be certain, of course," he said. "It's just," he looked up at Emma, "It's just speculation."

"Well, we need to try and figure out where this thing might strike next," Dean said. "And stop it."

"I may have an idea who will be next if my theory is right," Rick kept glancing up at Emma. "But I am only guessing at this point, you understand."

"Of course," Sam said to him. "Anything you have to go on, we'd appreciate."

They stood to leave, and Rose reached for another cookie. Emma grabbed her and hugged her again, saying, "Your family must be proud of you! And they must love your boyfriend!" she added, smiling over at Dean.

Rose pulled away from the hug, "Oh, he's not…" she started to say and then thought better of it. Better not to have to say too much, she thought. "Yeah, he's great," she said sheepishly.

"Meet me in the morning back at the highway," Rick told them. "I'll see what I can do to get you on the next job." He turned to Rose. "I want you to thank your uncle for us," he said. "But, Mija… isn't he a little upset with you for changing up the family crest?"

Rose shot a look over at the brothers. They had clearly heard what both Emma and Rick had said to her. "Nah, not really," she brushed off the statement saying, "I'll be sure to tell him what you said."

Back in the car, Dean turned around to face Rose in the backseat. "Okay, let's have it," he said bluntly.

"Have what?" she asked, an innocent expression in her blue eyes.

"Whatever it is you took from their kitchen," Dean answered, not wanting to play games. "A knife, scissors, whatever it is, hand it over."

Rose held her right hand out to them, palm open. She had what looked like some kind of brown icing drawn onto her palm in the shape of an eye with Aztec symbols surrounding it. "I didn't take anything," she hissed at him. "It's just henna. I'm waiting for it to dry. Emma did it for me… for protection." She saw Sam studying the symbols and pulled her hand back.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Rose whispered under her breath, her blue eyes filling with tears as she thought of Emma's statement on how her family should be proud of her.

* * *

As the brothers stood over the trunk of the car loading up their weapons, Sam motioned toward the backseat. "We can't take her with us, Dean," he said. "Not on this job. What do you intend to do with her?"

"I dunno yet," Dean answered as he loaded silver bullets into the chamber of his pistol. "I'll think of something."

"This is just great, guys," Rose said from the backseat of the Impala. "I get that I can't come along on the jobsite, but when are you gonna start trusting me?" She was lying across the seat, her hands handcuffed behind her.

"Uh, that would be never," Dean said as he leaned into the car and finished tying her feet together with a rope. He tossed a blanket over her, while from the other side of the car, Sam put a hand to Rose's head, reassuringly.

"Don't worry, we won't be long," he promised as he put the bandana back in her mouth again and reluctantly pulled the blanket over her face. He shot a frustrated look over at Dean as they closed the back doors to the Impala. They walked across the street and up to the corner where the men were gathering. Sam walked up to Rick. "Are you sure the car's okay over there?" he asked, leading him to believe he was concerned about the car and not letting him know that his concern was for Rose.

"It'll be okay," Rick answered him. "Everyone knows you're here to help. No one's going to bother your car. So that's your baby, huh?" he added.

"Uh, no, it's his," Sam answered him, shifting his weight uncomfortably and pointing at Dean. "But if anything were to happen to it…"

"I get it," Rick said, "Not to worry, it'll be fine."

A pick-up truck stopped beside them. Sam and Dean were standing within earshot as he heard the man say to Rick, "I need three men to help my road crew."

"That's fine," Rick said to the man, "We'll go." He motioned over to Dean and Sam to follow him as he went around to get into the back of the truck. The brothers looked at each other, surprised, and followed Rick into the truck bed. Dean sat in silence in the back of the truck, staring at Rick. Sam started to say something, but stopped himself. Rick just stared out at the highway going by.

* * *

At their lunch break, Sam walked up to Dean, both of them wearing hardhats and orange vests. "Have you seen anything?" he asked.

"No," Dean answered, biting into his sandwich. "I've been watching him all morning, and so far nothing at all."

Rick joined them, sitting down on the tailgate of the pick-up that had brought them. Dean looked over at him, finally asking what had been on their minds all morning. "What makes you think the attack will be here? Today?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Because I'm the last one," Rick said. "Because I'm the one who led those men to Jose's house that night."

"But he was your best friend," Sam protested, his confusion showing on his face.

Rick looked at him with a hard stare. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do," he said. "And sometimes it's the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your life. We _thought_ we were doing the right thing!"

"Yeah, well, you were wrong," Sam answered Rick, but he was looking directly at Dean.

Just then, something shook the truck so hard it was as if it had been struck by a car. Dean and Sam both pulled their guns out, putting Rick between them as they turned to face whatever had hit the truck.

"Do you see it?" Sam asked Rick, remembering that only the person the Hellhounds came after could see them coming.

"No," Rick said, fear in his voice. "I don't see anything."

They heard a growl and Sam was knocked to the ground. Another growl and Rick grabbed at his leg as a gash appeared out of nowhere on his calf. Dean fired his gun into the air in front of Rick and pulled Rick behind him, still shooting. Sam jumped to his feet and ran to support Rick, pulling him away.

"Where is it?" Dean shouted at Rick as he backed towards them, gun held up, ready to fire again.

"I don't know!" Rick protested, grimacing in pain. "I don't see anything!" From behind him came another growl and another gash appeared on his other leg. Sam shot this time, aiming at the spot in front of where Rick's wound appeared.

"This isn't working, Dean!" Sam said.

"I know!" Dean answered, thinking as quickly as he could. He pulled out a small silver flask. Without warning, Rick screamed and fell to the ground, gashes appearing on his back as if he were being mauled by a bear. Quickly opening the flask, Dean threw the holy water over Rick's back.

They heard a sudden whimper as if a dog had been struck, and then it appeared on the ground beside Rick, growling and whimpering. It was black and had the head of a dog, but was the size of a large grizzly bear, and its eyes were glowing red. Now that the beast was visible, both Dean and Sam emptied their weapons into it with no effect – the bullets seemed to pass right through it. Sam pulled out a 2nd flask of holy water and threw it onto the beast's face, causing it to cry out in pain, but not killing it.

A car came screeching up behind them and the brothers turned to see the Impala, and Rose jumping out of the driver's seat.

"What the…" Dean didn't have time to finish his sentence as Rose ran straight at the Hellhound, her right hand out, chanting in Latin. The beast shrunk back at her words, but she grabbed its massive head, placing her right hand over one of its eyes and continued chanting.

Howling and snarling in pain, the Hellhound's body convulsed under her grasp, but Rose didn't release her hold on its head. The convulsions and howling stopped and the Hellhound slipped out of Rose's arms to the ground, dissolving into smoke and ash.

Dean and Sam both stared at Rose in amazement, eyes wide. She turned and kneeled over Rick, helping him to sit up. "It's okay," she said to him. "It's over."

Rose and Sam walked out of the hospital to Dean waiting by the car. "He's going to be fine," Sam said. "The wounds were severe, but not life-threatening. He's gonna have one heck of a hospital bill, though." 

Rose looked up at him. "It's taken care of," she said.

Dean opened the back door for Rose to get in. "You ever touch my car again, and I _will_ hurt you," he said to her.

"Next time, bring me with you then," she answered back. "Oh, and sorry about the door handle," she added, reaching into her pocket and pulling the inside handle out and handing it to Dean. She looked at Sam as he got into the car. "I guess this doesn't help the trust factor any, does it?"

* * *

Driving away from the hospital, Sam turned his full attention on Rose. "What the hell happened back there?" he demanded.

Rose looked at him, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"

"How did you... how did you stop that thing?"

"Sam, seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about! Okay, so I got tired of waiting and I hot-wired Dean's car. I admit it was a stupid thing to do, and Dean, I'm really sorry, but, well, I was concerned, okay? And... a little scared," she admitted to them with defeat in her voice.

Dean slammed the brakes so hard it threw Rose into the back of his seat, throwing up dirt and gravel as he pulled the car to the side of the road. He got out of the car, threw open the back door and yanked Rose out of the car. Slamming her against the car and putting his weight against her, his arm at her neck, he growled at her, "Stop playing little miss innocent and tell us how you killed that Hellhound!" Sam jumped out too and tried to pull Dean off her before he choked her to death, but Dean just turned on him and said, "She knows more than she's letting on and I'm going to get answers out of her -- one way or another!" Sam backed off. Dean let up on the pressure he was putting on Rose's neck but didn't release her.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about!" Rose cried, her eyes growing wild with fear that Dean really was going to seriously hurt her this time. "I'm sorry I took your car, okay? What more do you want me to say? You know the kind of neighborhood you left me in! I got scared, and... well, I was afraid of what might happen..." her voice dropped, "I was afraid of what might happen to you." She all but whispered the last sentence.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!" Dean growled at her, tightening his grip again.

Seeing the expression on her face, Sam stopped him. "Rose, just what _do_ you remember?" he asked.

"Huh?" she asked, looking over at Sam. He was her only hope of escaping Dean's wrath right now. "I, uh... what are you talking about?"

"From the time we left you tied up in the car until now," Sam said calmly. "What do you remember?"

Rose didn't understand why he was asking but she answered, "I remember getting the door handle loose and using the pin from it to undo the handcuffs. Then I hotwired the car and drove to the road you were working on..."

"How did you know where we were?" Sam prompted her.

"Huh? Oh," she shook her head, trying to remember. "I... I don't know. Something inside me just sort of led me there." She looked back at Dean, "Just like the night we met in the strip club. Something told me you'd be there, and that I had to be there too... to help you. I can't explain it. It's just this feeling I get sometimes."

Dean loosened his grip on her again, searching her face for any sign that she might be lying. So far he couldn't see that she was, but she was good at keeping secrets, he knew that. "What do you mean, _feeling_?" he asked her.

She looked down, unable to look him in the face. "I know who you are," she admitted to them. "John Winchester's boys. And, you..." she looked up at Dean again and then quickly looked away seeing his intent stare, "All I have to do is concentrate hard enough and I can find you. It's the amulet. It leads me to you," she held up the silver African amulet she wore.

Dean studied it with faint and distant recognition, as Sam said, "Us? How can an amulet show you where we are?"

"No, not _you_," Rose said to Sam. "Him," She put her hands on Dean's arms, still holding her against the car then let them drop. She looked him in the face, saying, "It leads me to _you_."

Dean released his grip on her and slammed on the car with both hands on either side of her, so hard it made her jump. He turned his back on her, trying to sort out what she'd just told him. Turning back, he said, "What makes you think we're gonna believe you?"

"How else did I find you?" she answered in a small voice.

"Okay, okay," Sam said, still trying to calm the heated situation down. He turned to Rose, "So you drove to the worksite. Then what?"

Rose looked at him. "You know what happened after that. You were there. I got there and Rick was on the ground with those gashes all over him and the two of you standing over him with your guns drawn. He was injured, so I ran over to help him. I don't understand. Why are you asking me this?"

Dean was watching her closely but she showed no signs at all that she was lying. Sam looked over at his brother, then back at Rose, "You really don't remember?" he asked.

Rose looked back at Dean, staring at her like she was a ventriloquist's dummy then at Sam again, "Don't remember?" she said. "How could I forget? All that blood, and..." she looked down at her own shirt, still covered in Rick's blood from holding him before the ambulance arrived. They had followed it straight to the hospital and she hadn't had time to change. "How did he... how could he... how did he get away from it?" she asked, leaning back on the Impala for support, her legs giving out from under her. Sam ran to catch her so she wouldn't fall to the ground. Leaning on him, she looked over at Dean. "You got it, right? I mean... you must have or Rick would be..."

"No." Dean said through gritted teeth at her. "No, _we_ didn't get it."

She looked at him dumbfounded and tried to pull away from Sam, "Well, then we have to go back there! Whatever it was, it's going to go after him again! We have to..." she stopped as Sam pulled on her arms, not letting her go.

He looked down at her, so small next to him. "_We_ didn't kill it, Rose. You did." He grabbed her right wrist, turning the palm upward. "You put your hand over its eye, and..." Sam stopped now. It was his turn to be dumbfounded. "Dean..." Sam said and turned Rose's wrist so that Dean could see her palm. The henna tattoo had vanished. There was no trace it had ever been there.

* * *

Sam got back in the car, putting his cell phone in his pocket. Rose was in the backseat, hugging herself with both arms while Dean just stared at her, ice running through his veins. How could she honestly not remember?

"Emma says she doesn't remember giving Rose a henna tattoo. She said all they did was chat over coffee and cookies while we talked to Rick in the living room." Sam said to Dean.

"Because that's what we _did_!" Rose insisted. "How is he?" she added in a whisper.

"He's fine," Sam answered, "He's resting. She said he should be out of the hospital in a couple of weeks. And she said to say thank you for taking care of the hospital bill."

Rose sighed, relieved, as Dean pulled back out onto the road. He turned up the stereo and they sped along the highway, no one else saying a word as Foreigner's Long, Long Way From Home blared out the speakers of the Impala.


	8. Chapter 8

"Dean, I think I may have found something," Sam said looking up from the computer. Dean looked over toward the closed bathroom door. He got up and walked over to stand behind his brother.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I had been doing the wrong search on that crest," Sam answered. "Something Rick said made me realize it. She _changed_ the crest! So the description I was looking for didn't pull up anything!"

"Yeah, I caught that too," Dean said. "But can you do that? Change your family crest like that?" he asked.

"I dunno, I guess so," Sam said to him. "Anyway, she did. Here look," he pointed to the screen. "I did a search just using the Latin written on her arm, 'Si Fractus Fortis.' And look what I found," he clicked through the Google search to the first entry. "Si Fractus Fortis – if broken, still strong. It's the family motto of the Foster family. And look here. _This_ must be what Rick recognized," he said pointing to an image of a crest similar to Rose's tattoo, but with a different shield. Above the shield was an armored helmet and arm, holding a broken lance, exactly identical to the helmet and arm on Rose's tattoo. She had kept the crest and helm, and the family motto, but changed the shield to a horned Pegasus.

"There's just one problem," Sam said.

"What's that?" Dean asked him, peering at the screen in front of them.

"They're in Texas, alright, but they're all over the state! It almost looks as if every family named Foster in Texas claims that as their family crest. How can we even know which family is the right one? And how are we going to find this uncle of hers?" Sam realized that too many search results could be just as frustrating as too few or none at all. "Here's one that says, 'Following the Path of Sainthood.' And another that says they were part of the Crusades with Richard I. There's over 1,300 results here, Dean. I don't know if I can narrow that down."

"Well, keep searching," Dean said. "Maybe you'll come up with something else."

Rose came out of the bathroom and walked over to Sam. "So where to next?" she asked, leaning provocatively over Sam's shoulder to look at the glowing computer screen in front of him. He closed down his search just before she reached him. Her breath was warm on his neck and she smelled of mint and honeysuckle. He wished she wouldn't do that -- lean in so close to him. He pushed away from the desk and stood up. "Louisiana," he said, looking over at Dean, "It's one thing we haven't tried, man. There's a shaman there, a holy man, who knows about..." he broke off in mid-sentence, looking awkwardly at Rose.

"Who knows about whatever it is you're searching for that you don't want me to know about. Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. I get it." She sat down in Sam's abandoned chair and was searching through the computer herself now. She waved her hand at him, nonchalantly. "Use me, abuse me, but don't let me in on your little secrets. That's fine, I don't care..." she stopped abruptly, her attention now turned fully to the computer screen in front of her.

Sam knew she was right but it wasn't his call to make. Dean had made the decision to tell her as little as possible about their family, about their history, or about the deal he'd made. They had tried talking to her about what happened to Rick, and how she'd managed to stop the Hellhound, but she swore she didn't even remember any of it. The henna tattoo on her hand had disappeared completely the instant the beast was destroyed. They were back to square one as far as Rose was concerned. Dean still wanted to keep her with them, in spite of her lack of memory of the incident. He believed keeping an eye on her was the only way to keep her safe. Sam wanted the same thing, but for different reasons. He knew Rose could somehow save his brother and he didn't want to risk losing track of her.

A knock at the door made both brothers start as a voice called out, "Room service!" Dean reached for the gun laying on the table as Sam threw a blanket over the arsenal splayed out on one of the two beds.

"Oh, yeah, I ordered room service," Rose said flatly, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "Burgers okay?"

Sam opened the door to the uniformed bellboy standing there with a push cart. He hesitantly pushed past Sam, who partially blocked his way. Dean was standing now, his arm behind his back, pistol in hand, cocked and ready.

"Where?..." the bellboy started to ask.

"On the table over there is fine." Rose said, still not looking up. She waved her hand at the small table near the door. The bellboy quickly moved the trays -- two of them -- onto the table and turned to leave the room. Even he could feel the tension in the room and he wanted to get out as fast as he could. Sam started to reach for his wallet but the bellboy stopped him, "Don't worry, sir. My tip's already been comped. I've been well taken care of. _Very_ well taken care of, thank you!" he said as he backed out and closed the door.

Sam looked over at Rose, wondering just how she managed to pay for all this when he never even saw her sign a bill. She was the one who had convinced them to stay in a nicer hotel for a change, telling them not to worry about the cost. Dean pushed past him, sitting down in one of the oversized chairs at the table and removing the cover from one of the two trays. The smell of freshly cooked burgers and warm fries filled the air. Sam sat down hesitantly in the other chair. He removed the cover from the 2nd tray and looked around for a third. "Ummm, aren't you going to eat?" he asked Rose.

"Nah, not hungry," she answered, clicking to another page on the computer. Her face was taut, her eyes narrowed and beginning to redden. She closed the laptop slowly. "I, uh, I think I'm gonna take a shower," she said. "If that's okay with you," she added, looking over at Dean. Her bruises had healed, but she still let him know he was in charge, whatever he said, she would do.

He just nodded, mouth full of burger and waved his arm at her. He swallowed. "But don't use up all the hot water this time!" he called after her as she grabbed her backpack and closed the bathroom door behind her. They had slowly started trusting her more, finally allowing her some privacy after the Hellhound incident. It was Sam who convinced Dean that she obviously wanted to help and not to escape from them.

"What do you think that was about?" Sam asked, wondering what had caught her attention on the computer.

"Dunno, don't care," Dean answered, stuffing more fries in his mouth. "She's an odd one, that's for sure."

Sam moved over to the computer, abandoning his food for the moment. He quickly saw that she had cleared the cache before shutting it down, but he had a backup program she didn't know about. It didn't take him long to find the pages she'd been looking at. "Local businessman dies," he read aloud. He looked over toward the bathroom door. He could hear the shower running. He read further, "Local businessman, Thomas 'Slim' Foster, 71, died of a heart attack Monday night at Our Mother of Grace Hospital. He is survived by his wife, Rose Ellen Foster of Abilene and sister, Minnie Lee McClure of Dallas."

"So?" Dean asked, his mouth still full of burger. "Died of a heart attack at 71. Doesn't sound like our kind of problem, Sammy."

"No, but Rose was sure interested in it. Wait, there's more." He read on, "Former head of the oilworkers' union, Foster was influential in both local and state politics, making great strides towards workers' safety, and providing assistance to the families of oilworkers injured or killed on the job. 'He paid money out of his own pocket to send my Johnny to college after his Daddy died,' said neighbor, Elsie Moore. 'Of course, they never had any children of their own, so I guess that's why they took care of the town's children. A pillar of the community,' she added. 'He will be missed.'"

"Pillar of the community... successful businessman, died of natural causes, yada, yada. _Definitely_ not our kind of problem, Sammy. Hey, you gonna eat those fries?" Without waiting for an answer Dean scooped up most of Sam's fries onto his own plate, stuffing several into his mouth.

"Oh, shit, Dean!" Sam cried out, looking back at the first paragraph on the screen. "I almost didn't catch it! The man's name is _Foster_!"

The statement caught Dean's attention. Looking around, he asked, "Uh, Sammy, where are the car keys?"

"Don't worry, they're right here in my pock..." Sam's voice trailed off as he reached into his empty jeans pocket. He remembered Rose leaning into him as he stood up earlier. "She took the keys," he admitted in defeat.

They both ran for the bathroom door, Dean hitting it first. The door was locked but one hit with his shoulder and he had it open. The shower was still running, the window open to the fire escape below. They went to the window, looking down four flights at an empty parking space where the Impala had been parked the night before. It was nowhere in sight.

* * *

"Dean, I said I was sorry," Sam implored. 

Dean just glared at his brother and grunted. He didn't say anything, afraid he would punch his brother in the mouth if he said he was sorry one more time. They were in a compact rental car, flat countryside flying by them.

"No one's ever been able to pickpocket me before!" Sam insisted, "Ever!"

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there, Sammy?" Dean let his sarcasm hit Sam instead of hitting him with his fist. "All I'll say is, she'd better be at that damn funeral!"

Dean pulled up into a gas station and both brothers went to the men's room to change into suits and ties. As they got back into the car, Sam looked over at Dean and opened his mouth, about to say something.

"Don't say it again, Sam," Dean said to him and slammed the Hyundai door behind him. He pulled back onto the highway and sped past a sign that read, "Welcome to Abilene, Texas!"

"The man in the gas station said the funeral home is in the center of town," Sam said, looking around. "Uh, how can you tell where the center of town is?" All around them, there was only more and more flat land, with a few houses scattered here and there.

"I think this is it, Sammy," Dean answered him as the highway came to an end and he pulled up to a red stoplight. Looking both ways, he pointed, "Over there." Sam turned the direction Dean was pointing and saw a line of cars pulling into a parking lot of a large pillared building. The light turned green and Dean quickly flipped on his blinker and turned in the direction of the funeral home. The parking lot was full and more cars were still pulling up, parking anywhere they could along the streets and in the grassy lot across the street from the funeral home. Dean pulled the compact car to a stop and they got out. As they passed through the parking lot, neither of them spied the Impala. Dean looked at Sam, discouraged. Sam knew what he was thinking. He was thinking it too. _She'd better be here. It's our only lead_.

Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, the women all in dresses, no slacks. Most people were still standing around outside, greeting each other as they headed for the funeral home steps. The atmosphere was somber, but no one was crying. Dean and Sam both noticed this -- a total lack of emotion on nearly every face, furrowed brows on the men, furtive smiles on the women. Everyone spoke in hushed, respectful tones. They tried to blend in as best they could, seeing people noticing that they were out-of-towners. Both were dressed in navy blue suits and white dress shirts, Dean with a gray tie, Sam with a blue one.

As they entered the funeral home, the brothers noticed it was standing room only. It seemed every resident of Abilene had turned up. Taking up position at the back of the room, both brothers scanned the crowd for the familiar bright red hair. Sam spotted it first. Nudging Dean, he tilted his head toward the front of the funeral home as the crowd slowly hushed. From a door off to the side of the casket at the front of the funeral home, Rose entered, guiding a gray-headed woman by the arm. Another elderly woman walked out ahead of them, head held high. They took their seats in the family pew, set up facing the congregation and slightly elevated from it. The hush of the crowd was almost deafening to Dean, the air was thick and hot for the first week of March. He pulled at his collar, not taking his eyes off Rose.

Keeping his eye on her during the long eulogies, Dean almost didn't recognize her. Only a small peek of her bright red hair could be seen under a black scarf she wore over her head. The only woman in the room in slacks, she wore a black, long-sleeved sweater pulled down over a white button-down collared shirt and she had on black lace gloves, as did the two elderly women with her. Dean wondered about the long sleeves in the unusual early spring heat, then realized, she was covering up her tattoos. That explained the slacks, too. A dress, even with boots would have revealed the dragon crawling up her long leg. Only today she looked short and somewhat older. Even from the back of the room, he could tell she'd been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them. He looked around the room, spotting men in black suits at each corner of the room, with wireless ear buds, each standing at attention, scanning the crowd just as he was. He nudged Sam and they both ducked their heads, trying to blend into the others in the standing room only crowd. They noticed other agents after that, scattered in the pews, and then noticed that a large majority of the men in the congregation had some kind of bulge under his jacket. What had they just stepped into?


	9. Chapter 9

The eulogies over, the massive crowd began the slow process toward the front of the funeral home to pay their respects. Dean's eyes never left Rose as they joined the procession, but she was intent on the gray-haired woman, only occasionally glancing up at well-wishers passing by her. The brothers were slowly making their way toward the woman who'd stolen his car the day before. Revenge was on his mind, but he knew this was not the time or the place. Especially not in a funeral home filled with guns on every side of him.

Sam strained to listen to the hushed conversations around them. "Giant of a man," he heard, and, "Pillar of the community." Every so often he thought he heard murmurings of, "Poor Rose," only to realize they were speaking of the older woman Rose had escorted in. _That's right,_ he remembered. _Foster's wife's name is Rose._ No one said a word about the young woman sitting next to her.

Just before they reached the family, Sam saw Rose's hand go to her chest then look around frantically, her eyes finally falling on them. She whispered something into the woman's ear next to her and turned to the other elderly woman, motioning for her to follow Rose to the corner of the room. The two stood and walked over to the corner, with Rose facing the brothers, watching them out of the corner of her eye, keeping the elderly woman's back to them.

Sam and Dean reached the family pew and Sam leaned down to pay his respects to the frail woman left sitting there. The old woman looked up at them sadly. "We're so sorry for your loss," he said to her, his eyes darting over at Rose.

"Thank you, thank you," the older Rose was saying. "How did you know my Slim?"

"A friend of our father's," Sam was quick to reply.

"Dad always spoke highly of him," Dean added.

"Oh, I see, I see," the old woman replied, satisfied with the answer, her voice trailing off. They were near the end of the procession, but the crowd still pressed them to move on. One of the nearby agents noticed how long they were taking and started to take a step forward. Sam pushed at Dean to move away so the line could continue. They stepped toward the casket, Dean never taking his eyes off Rose. As she and the elderly woman returned to the family pew she looked back at him, locking eyes with him in a steely gaze. _I'm not leaving her,_ her bloodshot eyes said to him. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept since she took off with the Impala, and she had no makeup on.

Sam looked down into the open casket, surprised at the huge size of the man inside. "Giant of a man," he'd heard people say. Giant? This man was _huge_, larger than any man he'd ever seen. Even the term Giant seemed an understatement. He had an unnatural look to him too, with too much makeup on. His arms were crossed in front of him, right hand over left. Sam could see the gold band on his left hand and realized that three of his fingers were missing on his right hand. There was just a small stub where two of the fingers had been and his pinky finger was gone entirely.

Dean glanced into the casket too, and he, too, saw the unusual size of the man, and noticed the missing fingers. He didn't, however, want to lose sight of Rose. The line of people and a funeral director at the nearby door forced them to step outside into the bright Texas sun.

"Don't worry, Dean, she's not going anywhere yet. Besides, the Impala's not even here, man!" Sam tried to calm his brother's nerves.

As they waited outside the funeral home for Rose and the family to come out, Sam decided to ask some of the locals about the man. He asked as many questions as he could without getting too specific. One overtly sized woman in a blue flowered cotton dress was more than happy to tell the brothers all about the family. It seemed they had come across the town gossip. She told them all about "Uncle Slim" and what a great man he was, most of her story matching what Sam had read online. Dean and Sam looked at each other in surprise as she called him "uncle."

"Uncle?" Dean asked.

"Oh, we all call him 'Uncle Slim' even though we're not really related to him. Everyone in town just loved him so much!" she rambled.

"Everyone that had a job," her husband muttered under his breath next to her.

"Oh, Lloyd, don't be bitter!" she chided him. "Lloyd used to work for Uncle Slim when he was younger, but Uncle Slim, he didn't put up with certain types of behavior. And Lloyd here was a bit of a rebel."

The woman, Rebecca, kept on talking, but nothing that would indicate the reason for secret service agents or FBI or whoever the men were. They did find out the two older women were Slim's wife, Rose, and his sister, Minnie. Rebecca called her 'Minnie Lee.'

"Umm, who is the young girl with them?" Sam asked.

"The girl?" Rebecca's mind seemed to wander as much as her chatter. "Oh! You must mean Katy. That's Minnie Lee's granddaughter. Tragic, just tragic, everything that family's been through!"

Sam looked over at Dean and then back at Rebecca. "Tragic?"

"Katy was raised by Slim and Rose. We all wondered what happened to her – she just took off one day. Her mother died when she was a baby and then her father died too. Murdered, they said, but they never caught the man. Which was a little surprising someone could get away with…" For the first time, Rebecca stopped chatting and looked around nervously, quickly changing the subject. "Poor Minnie Lee's been through so much! All of her children and grandchildren dying tragically! Young Katy's all she has left now. It's so good to see that she's back with the family!"

Dean kept watching the funeral home and the limo waiting outside the doors, waiting for Rose and the two women to come out. They finally did, the older woman leaning all her weight on Rose, who never let go of her arm. Six fairly large-sized men carried the casket out in front of them, straining under the weight. Satisfied that Rose was getting into the limo, Dean turned to Rebecca. "Is there going to be a graveside service?" he asked.

Rebecca turned to see the family coming out too. "Oh, but, yes, of course. Lloyd, we'd better go get in the car and get in line. Oh, did you boys need a ride to the cemetery?" she asked them.

Dean pulled the rental keys out of his pocket, "No, thanks," he answered as nicely as he could. He turned and he and Sam quickly walked back to the compact Hyundai.

Dean pulled the car into the long line of cars following the limo that carried Rose and the family. Watching out the window, Dean saw that every business they passed had people standing outside to watch the processional go by. Everyone in town hadn't been at the funeral after all, but they all wanted to show their respects to this "giant of a man." Every street they passed was lined with people watching them, men holding their hats in their hands, some of them hanging their heads. Dean had to say he was impressed, whoever the man was.

As they pulled out of town, up onto the highway, the brothers realized the cemetery was several miles out of town. Turning under the bricked archway into the Abilene cemetery, they saw the tent with a few chairs underneath and the open grave. Another service was about to start. God, this was turning into a long day!

The graveside service was thankfully short. Dean saw Rose finally detach herself from the old woman after the coffin was lowered into the ground and stepped towards them walking on her toes so her heels wouldn't sink into the grass. He could see she was tired and distraught but he didn't care.

Putting her hands up in a defensive stance, she said to him, "Don't worry, your car's fine. It's back at the house." She eyed him cautiously when he didn't respond. "So, what? Are you gonna punch me out again right here in front of all these people? I wouldn't recommend it." She turned and looked, not at the agents in dark suits, but at a group of middle aged men standing together, every one of them with a bulge in his jacket, his back or his pants leg. "I've got to ride back with Aunt Rose," she said. "But I'll meet you back at the funeral home. Where are you staying?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Dean snapped at her. "We're not letting you out of our sight again!" He grabbed her roughly by the elbow, catching the attention of nearby mourners with his movement. He grinned back at them, "She's okay. Just a little faint, is all." They nodded in agreement as he led her back to Aunt Rose. The other woman's attention was turned to the preacher opposite the open grave and she didn't see them walk up to the elderly Rose.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Aunt Rose," Dean said. "But it's been so long since we've seen Ro.."

Rose stomped his foot. "_Katy!_" she hissed into his ear. He looked at her, surprised and then remembered Rebecca calling her 'Katy.'

"... since we've seen Katy here, that we were wondering if she could ride back to town with us."

"Oh, but of course," the older Rose said. "You young people should ride together. It's silly of an old woman to keep Katy all to herself. You go with your friends, dear," she grasped Katy's hand with such fierceness the younger woman thought she would leave a mark.

The brothers led her back to their rental car and Sam turned to Rose for the first time since the service. "Okay, so the car's 'back at the house' you said. So where's this house?"

Rose pulled the black scarf from her hair, letting the red locks cascade down her back. "Just down the road," she said, motioning for Dean to turn the car left out of the cemetery and pulling the lace gloves off her hands, her silver rings barely shining through them. "Turn right at the next stop sign, then left."

After driving for only 10 minutes, Rose pointed to a house at the end of the road. It appeared to be abandoned. The paint was peeling, the yard was overgrown with grass and weeds and the back gate stood askance, having fallen from one of its hinges. A corner of a detached garage could be seen through the gate. Dean spotted the Impala in front of the garage, sitting at an angle so it couldn't be easily seen from the road. He pulled into the driveway and they got out of the rental car.

They strode up to the house and she pulled a key from her pocket with one hand, holding her gloves in the other. Sam noticed she wasn't carrying a purse. _She's unarmed_, he thought to himself, checking her too-tight outfit for any tell-tale bulges. There were none. Unlocking the front door, she pushed it open, indicating for the brothers to follow her. They dropped their bags on the floor and a cloud of dust rose from each thud. The house smelled musty, like it hadn't been opened up in a very long time, but it also smelled of mint and honeysuckle. Sam realized she had spent the night here while they were on the road the night before. Much of the furniture was covered in draped sheets, with the sheets pulled back from the couch, one of the chairs and a dining table in the corner. A silver sword hung on the wall over the couch and a mirror across from it, making it appear there were two swords hanging in the room.

Rose disappeared into the next room, with Dean hot on her heels, then turned and came back just as quickly, bumping into his chest. "Here," she said to him, dropping the Impala's keys into his hand. She brushed past him toward the front door, grabbing something off the table as she went. "You can stay for a while if you like. It's safe here," she opened the door again and stepped out onto the front porch.

Dean sprinted for the back door, seeing the Impala through the kitchen window. Not knowing whether to follow Dean or Rose, Sam sighed and turned to go after Rose. He found her standing on the front porch, lighting a cigarette. "What?" she snapped at him seeing his disapproving look.

"You don't smo... oh, never mind!" Sam snapped back. "Look, you have no idea what you've just cost us! We _need_ that car!" Sam's patience had finally run too thin, worried about his brother, about the demons that had gotten loose at Hell's Gate, about the whole future for the Winchester family. It all came crashing down on him and he lashed out at Rose with it. "I don't know _who_ you are and, frankly, I don't care! I was grateful for the help you gave us on that last job, I really was, but so far that hasn't gotten us anywhere! Dean's -- _we're_ -- running out of time! I've got to figure out a way to save my brother and taking time off to go chasing you all over the country is _not_ what I need right now!" His voice trailed off, holding back tears of anger. Rose looked at him in surprise. She expected an angry reaction from Dean but not from Sam. Before she could respond to his outburst, Dean's head popped out the door.

"Uh, Sammy, could you come in here for a sec?"

Stepping back into the house, Sam looked at Dean, inquisitively. Dean put a finger to his mouth, for him to be quiet as he slowly closed the door behind Sam, leaving Rose out on the porch. She looked after them for a second, but too tired to care what was going on, she leaned on the trellis and took another drag from her cigarette. It had been a long two days.

Sam followed Dean into the room, noticing he held the EMF meter in his hand. "Is it the car?" he started to say, then noticed the loud beeping coming from the meter. It didn't matter which way Dean turned it, the needle jumped frantically back and forth, the red lights flashing, the beeping growing louder with every step.

"It's _safe_ here?" Dean asked his brother, his eyes wide, looking around the dust-filled room.

* * *

Dean popped his head out the door again. "Uh, Rose? Would you mind coming into the house for just a minute?" he said in a sing-song voice.

After Sam's outburst, and now the _nice_ tone in Dean's voice, Rose was hesitant but obedient. She dropped the cigarette butt and ground it into the concrete porch with the toe of her shoe. Following Dean into the house, he turned and indicated she was to sit on the couch in front of him. She sat.

The brothers stood in front of her, arms crossed. Both now held guns in their hands, but neither were pointed at her. It was Sam who spoke first.

"Who the hell _are_ you?" he asked. "No more games, no aliases, no beating around the bush. Where does all that money come from? What the _hell_ is going on here?"

She nervously turned the ring on her thumb. He noticed the movement of her fingers and she stopped abruptly.

Dean just stood there, arms crossed, the EMF meter still in his left hand, beeping away, his pistol in his right hand. She looked at Sam, over at Dean, then looked away. She didn't like Dean being all quiet like this, Sam taking charge of dealing with her. She didn't like that they were holding guns on her, even if they weren't threatening her with them. It made her even more nervous. For several minutes, no one spoke.

"My full name is Katrina _Rose_ Foster McClure," she finally said. "Katy. Uncle Slim was my uncle -- my dad's uncle, actually. Aunt Rose and Grams are the only family I have, but they don't acknowledge me anymore. Grams only let me come to the funeral 'cause Aunt Rose insisted. I haven't seen any of them in years, but I know Uncle Slim always had people following me, watching my back. Hector... Hector was one of his men. He got too close and he got killed. It was my fault..." her voice trailed off, but the brothers didn't let her off that easy.

"Where did you get all that money, Rose?" Sam asked.

She looked at him as if he should know by now. "The family business, you mean? Look, I don't know where it all comes from and I don't ask, okay?" she said to him. Seeing that her response wasn't good enough, she added, "I know a _little_ about the family business, but not much. Men like Hector, the biker gang, even Rick's old gang all worked for them at one point or another. Uncle Slim only ever trusted his own men to look after me, so that's how I was raised."

"What about your parents?" Sam continued to grill her about her family.

"Dead." She said flatly. Looking at them standing over her, she added, "Mom died when I was a baby. I never knew her. And my Dad…" she looked at Dean accusingly, "My dad was killed when I was a teenager. After that Uncle Slim and Aunt Rose raised me. If you could call it that. They were never around. They just always had men watching me. It was more like prison than anything. I got out as soon as I could."

"What about the ring." Sam's words were more of a statement than a question.

"And this?" Dean added, holding up the EMF meter, still beeping incessantly.

She looked at the odd looking walkman in Dean's hands, realizing what it was, and what it was doing. The thought didn't startle or surprise her. "Growing up, there was this man. This evil, _evil_ man," her voice grew harsh with the words. "He's been following us, killing off my family, one by one, and..."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "No, no, no," Sam protested. "We... Dean... _He's dead_. He can't come after you anymore," Sam tried to reassure her.

She looked at Sam and then at pointedly at Dean, "I know he's dead. But his..." she stopped herself from saying what she was about to say next. Changing the subject, she told them of her family.

"This is the old family house," she finally said. "But no one comes here anymore. Too many painful memories. I had another uncle once, Uncle James. No one talks about it and I'm not supposed to know, but…." she dropped her head to her chest, not wanting to let their family secret out.

"But?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised, waving his gun in her direction to convince her to continue. She eyed the gun cautiously.

"There was a fight over the ring. My great-grandmother was killed – in _this_ house because of it. They said it was Uncle James who did it. But I know better – it was the demon…" she said quietly.

"You mean to tell me there's a malevolent spirit here?" Dean asked, letting his guard down from Rose and going for his bag for his shotgun loaded with rock salt.

"No!" Rose jumped to her feet to stand in front of him, blocking his way to his bag. "It's not malevolent!" she insisted.

Sam had reached into his bag too and had his own shotgun out now. "Rose, you don't know that," he said. His shotgun flew out of his hand, hitting the far wall and he and Dean were thrown onto the couch, Dean's gun flying out of his hand. Pinned to the couch, Sam screamed, "_Rose_!"

She stood before them in the middle of the room, five white shapes surrounding her, protecting her from them.

"I do know it, Sam," Rose said from behind the curtain of white between her and the brothers. "I know it because they protect me. They're afraid you're going to hurt me."

"We're not…" Dean said, the pressure of something pushing into his chest causing his breathing to become labored.

"We wouldn't…" Sam said at the same time, feeling the same pressure on his chest as Dean.

Rose nodded, "I know you wouldn't hurt me, but they don't," she said. She waved her hand at the figures around her and they disappeared from view. The force holding the brothers down released its hold on them. They jumped up and jumped to her side, unarmed and unable to defend her or themselves.

"Where'd they go?" Sam asked apprehensively looking around the room.

Standing between them, looking small even in heels, Rose touched each brother on the shoulder and guided them to sit with her on the couch with her in the middle. "They're gone," she said. "For now. I sent them away."

As they sat down, Dean banged on the EMF meter in his hand. He held it up and looked at Sam. It had gone silent. Both brothers sat on the edge of the couch, tensed and anxious. Rose leaned back between them, her eyes half closed, exhaustion setting in. Dean looked down at her, more questions in his eyes. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

"I don't hunt demons," she said in a tired voice. "They hunt me."


	10. Chapter 10

Rose continued, "The spirits in this house aren't malevolent…. They're not out for revenge. There's nothing even they could do anyway," she added vaguely. "They're still here because of the ring. To protect whoever wears it."

Dean didn't believe a word of what she said, but Sam questioned her, "What about the ring, Rose?"

"Look, all I can tell you is that it's been in my family for generations. The demons, they want it. And they'll stop at nothing to get it. Those spirits, the ones in this house, died protecting it and they still protect it. Protect _me_. That's all I can tell you because that's all I know," she lied to them, looking each brother in the eye, willing them to believe her. They did.

"And you really believe that it's safe here?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I know it is," she said to him. "Look, I don't control them, they're not under any kind of spell, but…. Well, they've been protecting me for a very long time. Since before I had the ring even. Here, I'll show you." she added, getting up from the couch.

She led the brothers into the hallway, lined with old family photos. She pointed to a picture of a baby with dark blue eyes, then to a five-year-old at a birthday party, surrounded by gifts but looking sullenly at the camera, and finally to a little girl around 9 or 10 years old, sitting alone on a swingset. In the birthday photo, a portion of her left leg could be seen in what looked like a cast. "Those are all me," she said. As they studied each of the pictures, the brothers saw two spirit orbs hovering just over the baby and three spirit orbs in the other two photos, surrounding the little girl, bathing her in light.

Rose looked up at the brothers, each of them studying the pictures intently. "Any time I was in trouble, they were always there. Protecting me, saving me. Now do you believe me?" As Sam and Dean studied the family photos, they noticed that none of the other family members in them had orbs around them, with the exception of one photo. A large man sitting on a couch, holding a cigar in his hand. In that one photo, he had two orbs, floating just over his head, as the two women next to him were cast in shadow.

Sam pointed to the man in the photo. "Who's that Rose?" he asked.

Looking where he was pointing, she sighed and nearly broke down crying again. "That's Uncle Slim when he was younger. Back in the 70s, I think, before I was born."

"Your uncle," Sam said, a look of pity on his face for her and the tragedy in her family, "…he didn't die of a heart attack, did he?"

"No, he didn't," she said with surprise. "But, how did you know that?"

"Just a hunch," Sam told her truthfully. "The men at the funeral acted like they were ready for something to happen, that's all."

She grunted and grinned slightly. "Yeah, they did, didn't they? That did kinda look like war was about to break out, come to think of it." Her smile faded as she said, "But you're right, Sam. It wasn't a heart attack. He was …. he was killed."

"Your family's got enemies that will go so far as to kill them?" Dean asked, concerned.

She looked at him as if he were one of them for a second before responding. "Of course," she said. "Doesn't everyone?"

"And the FBI?" Dean asked. His spine shuddered as he thought of how close they were to the very agency looking for him.

"With Uncle Slim gone, everyone's on edge. I mean, they all know Grams is taking over the family business – she's been running it with him for years, but, well, you know how men are," Rose answered. "Those agents were protecting what's left of the family – Grams, Aunt Rose, my cousins. They were there to make sure a war _didn't_ break out."

"Wait," Sam said to her. "You mean to tell us that the _FBI_ works for your family?"

She leaned against the wall next to the picture of herself as a baby. "Something like that," she said. "Not exactly. You could say they have an _understanding_. Uncle Slim provided them with what they needed for certain investigations, they look the other way on others. The price for his intel to them was to protect the family. Not that they did a bang-up job protecting him though," she added in disgust. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, fighting off the tears.

Sam and Dean just looked at each other. "Okay, it's late and we're all tired," Dean said. "We'll stay here one night but then we're leaving. And you're coming with us," he said to Rose.

"Fair enough," she said. She looked at them cautiously. "You're not gonna start handcuffing me again, are you?" she asked. "In my own house?"

Dean looked over at Sam, eyebrows raised. "Absolutely" Dean said, as Sam said, "No, of course not." at the same time. Dean looked at his brother. "…not." he added in defeat. He looked back at Rose, "No, well, of course not. But you are sleeping where at least one of us can keep an eye on you." he said.

"And which one of you would that be?" Rose asked him sarcastically.

Later that night, Rose lay in the king-sized bed of the master bedroom, under a giant canopy and fluffy white cotton comforter and sheets, Dean and Sam both on either side of her. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered as she snuggled down under the covers. Sam and Dean just looked at each other briefly over her head at her statement and then they each lay down to sleep.

Sometime during the night, something shook the bed, stirring Dean awake. He looked to see a cat that had jumped up at the foot of the bed and was padding its way towards Rose. He started to turn over to go back to sleep, when he noticed something. The calico creature came up and pushed its way under Rose's hand. As Rose moved her hand in her sleep and put her arm around it so the cat could snuggle up to her, Dean saw that the cat was not entirely solid. He could see right through it. "Sam!" Dean hissed at his brother. "Sam!" In a deep sleep, his arm draped over Rose's waist, Sam stirred and grunted but didn't wake. Dean just moved towards the edge of the bed and waited until morning, locked in a staring contest with the cat's glowing green eyes.

* * *

In a motel room in Dallas, Rose came out of the bathroom, freshly scrubbed and walked over to the bed nearest her. She tapped the solid wood headboard attached to the wall and looked over at Dean. "So, what're you gonna do about this," she said to him. "No railing to handcuff me to."

Dean just looked at her and reached down to pull the mattress away from the wall. She looked down. "Bedframe," she said. "Fine then," she plopped down onto the bed and looked up at him. He walked over to her holding the handcuffs and took her left arm this time. Seeing the surprised look on her face, he said, "I thought your right arm might be getting tired."

"Yeah, whatever," she said as she curled up at the head of the bed, her left arm draped over the side. She was too sleepy to care.

Dean waited for her to drift to sleep, listening closely to the sound of her breathing. Convinced she was asleep, he went over and looked down at her right hand. "Whatever's going on, Sammy, it's got something to do with this ring. I _know_ I've seen it before!"

"Dean, Bobby's search came up with nothing," Sam said walking over to join his brother standing over the sleeping Rose. "And we've searched Dad's journal. There's no mention of a ring in there."

"I know it doesn't make sense," Dean said to him. "But I'm telling ya, there's something about that _ring_. I need to know why demons are after it. I just need to get a better look at it." He reached down and reached for her hand.

"You're just gonna take it off her hand, then?" Sam asked. "What if she wakes up?"

"Not likely," Dean said. "I put sleeping pills in her beer at dinner."

"You put sleeping pills in _alcohol_? Dean!" Sam was clearly upset, but more because his brother hadn't let him in on what he was doing.

"Yeah, so?" Dean answered. "It's no different than those hot toddies Dad used to give you to get you to go to sleep. She'll be out for a while." He held Rose's hand in his and pulled the ring off her thumb. Looking at it closely, he walked over to the desk and pulled an ink stamp out of the drawer that he had placed there earlier and a piece of notebook paper. He carefully rolled the ring on the stamp pad and then rolled it on the paper. Both brothers leaned in over the impression. "It does look like some kind of hieroglyphic writing," Dean said. "Do you think you can translate it?"

"I dunno, Dean. It's not Egyptian, I can tell that. Maybe…" Sam was interrupted by a voice coming from the bed.

"Ancient Druid," Rose was sitting up on the bed, watching them. Her eyes were a deeper blue than normal. "Long forgotten, even in the Gaelic languages of today." She arched her back, stretching provocatively, like a cat in heat. "I have to thank you boys. She never would have taken that ring off on her own."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. "I thought you said she'd be out for a while," Sam asked his brother.

"She should be," Dean answered, rising slowly and edging towards his bag. "But that isn't Rose."

"Very observant," she cooed at him as black ooze seemed to pour into her eyes. "I'd stop right there, if I were you." She yanked her arm up, snapping the handcuffs and pulling the fur off them at the same time. "Arrrgghh!" she cried out, grabbing the cuff from her wrist and snapping it in two to pull it off her arm. There was a burn mark where the hard metal had singed her wrist. Sam and Dean both saw a similar burn on her right pinky finger where the other ring had been. She had quietly pulled it and the two pendants off before alerting them to her presence. "Why the hell does she have to have so much _silver_?" the demon possessing Rose's body shrieked. Hissing at them, she jumped from the bed and burst out of the room, breaking the door off its hinges.

Dean reached into his bag, pulling out his gun and checking the clip for silver bullets. Snapping the clip back into the chamber, he started for the door.

"Dean, _wait!_" Sam said to him. "You can't… you can't just kill her." His face contorted in pain and confusion. As far as Sam was concerned, Rose was the key to saving his brother and he wanted to protect her at all costs, even if it meant from Dean himself.

"Sam, that's not _Rose_." Dean replied. "Besides, you saw how she reacted to the silver jewelry Rose wore. I may not have to kill her. I may just have to wound her."

Sam grabbed his own gun and followed Dean out the door. They searched for some trace of where she went as a flood of long-forgotten memories came rushing into Dean's mind. "At least now I know where I've seen that ring before," he said.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean was 15 and Sam was 11 when their Dad took them to Texas for the first time. Sitting in a motel room in Corpus Christi, Dean complained to his Dad, "Couldn't we have come here during the summer? Or at spring break? You know when there would be girls here in bikinis?" John just laughed at him and shook his head.

"You know we go where the job takes us, _when_ it takes us," John said to his son. "Come on, let's go. I'm meeting someone in half an hour."

It seemed unusually warm to the Winchester boys considering it was the second week of November. Dean walked out into the bright Texas sun and 88 degree temperature, wishing for cooler weather and maybe even snow. If he couldn't have girls in bikinis around him, he didn't see the point of being at the beach.

They stood on the quiet, empty beach, waiting in anticipation. "There's no one here, Dad," Dean was starting to say when they saw an older man and young blonde girl approaching them. The girl looked to be about his age, her blonde curls framing her face.

The man strode up to John, reaching his hand out to shake hands. "Are you John Winchester?" he asked. The man was unusually large, almost giant in size, making both Dean and Sam think of what a real Texan would look like.

"That's right," John said, taking the man's hand. "Slim?"

"Yes, and this is Katy," Slim introduced the girl to John and he took her hand too, looking intently into her blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you Katy," he said. She glanced at him and then stared down at the sand. She looked back up at John as he continued, "These are my boys, Dean and Sam." Katy shot them a shy smile and released John's hand.

Walking away from them a little ways, Slim turned back to Katy, "We'll just be over here," he said to her. She nodded and turned to face the gulf, the wind blowing her blonde hair. Dean was immediately taken with her. "So," he said, walking up beside her. "You from around here?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her blue eyes twinkling. "No," she answered. "I'm from up north."

"Oh?" Dean's voice brightened at the thought that she might be from Kansas, maybe somewhere close to what he always considered home.

" Dallas," she added, looking over at the two men talking. With the wind whipping past her and the crash of the waves, she couldn't make out what they were saying. She saw Slim holding up his hand, showing John the ring on his pinky finger.

"Oh," Dean said again, following her gaze. He could see that his father was clearly upset about something.

"Is that all you can say? 'Oh?'" Katy asked mimicking him.

"Oh, uh, _no_." Dean answered, frustrated that this girl had him tongue-tied.

"Well, you've got the one-syllable words down pretty good, that's for sure," Katy laughed at him, but didn't take her eyes off the men down the beach.

Sam had wandered closer to the water's edge and was poking at something in the sand with a stick. Dean saw him and ran over to him, "Sammy!" he called. "Get away from that, Sammy! It's a jellyfish! You don't wanna get stung by that thing!" Dean pulled his brother away from the water.

John and Slim walked back up to them and Slim put his arm around Katy. "Thank you," he was saying to John. "For everything. See you soon." He leaned down and kissed Katy on top of her head and they walked off down the beach.

"What was that about, Dad?" Dean asked him, watching Katy walk away. "Is it a job?"

"Yeah," John sighed, also watching the girl, pity for her showing on his face. He was holding what appeared to be a box of bullets in his hand. He turned towards the car before Dean or Sam could see his expression. "Come on, let's go. We've got work to do." John set his jaw, focusing on the task ahead of him, not letting his sons see his concern for this man or the young girl.

Back in the room, John was storing up gear in a duffle bag. Guns, holy water, even a silver machete. He was pulling out all the stops. He loaded 3 guns with silver bullets from the box Slim had given him back at the beach. "Come on," he said to Dean. "You and Sammy are coming with me on this one."

"What?" Dean asked, not believing his luck. He was tired of being left behind most of the time, especially at his age.

John handed each of them one of the guns loaded with silver bullets. He took Dean by the shoulder and looked him square in the eye. "You are not to fire this unless you have to? Got that?" John said, looking at Dean and then over at Sammy.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, his head down.

"Yes, sir," Sam said, reluctantly taking the gun. He was as good a shot as Dean, but didn't enjoy the hunt as much as his brother did.

"You're only coming along to protect the girl," John told them. "Don't let anything happen to her."

Dean's attitude brightened. He was going to get to see Katy again.

"Don't even think about it," John teased his son, laughing at him as he took him by the neck in a rare jovial moment.

* * *

The mood darkened with the sky as they made their way to the edge of the pier. Slim and Katy were already waiting there for them. They had been fighting and there were tears in her eyes.

"Is she…" John started to ask Slim, seeing her distraught condition.

"She'll be fine," Slim answered. "I told her. Everything."

"You did the right thing," John said to his new friend. Turning to Dean, he said, "Stay with her. Don't let her out of your sight." He turned back to Slim, "Are you sure you're ready for this?" John asked him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Slim answered, pulling on the ring on his pinky finger.

Before either man could move, something dark swooped down and grabbed Slim, yanking him out of sight into the sky. John went running after them, shooting blindly into the sky after them. Katy saw him firing towards whatever had taken Slim and ran at him screaming, "No! No, don't!" Dean ran after her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back. The two of them fell to the ground with Dean's arms around Katy's waist. "Let me go!" she shouted at Dean, struggling with him but he was bigger and stronger and didn't release his grip on her.

"No!" he said to her with all of the authority he could muster. "I've been told to protect you and that's what I'm gonna do! Now come on!" He pulled her toward the pier, hoping whatever had grabbed Slim from the sky wouldn't be able to reach them underneath it. Sam joined them, helping Dean pull Katy away from their father and whatever demon he was chasing.

Seeing the boys running with Katy, the demon screeched and dropped down after them, dropping Slim onto the beach nearby. Two other figures appeared in the sky behind it, all three going after the three children. John saw them change direction but he was too far to get off a shot. "Dean!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Fire!"

Dean released Katy and rolled to his back, taking careful aim and firing up at the sky. Sam followed suit, and they each clipped one of the flying creatures, sending them wailing off into the sky. Seeing Slim released, Katy ran to his side as the third creature dropped to the ground. What had looked like wings was merely a cape now, fluttering behind the creature as it turned into a man, walking towards them. Katy looked over at it, her eyes wide. "Dad?" she said, stepping towards it. None of the Winchesters heard her over the wind and the waves crashing on the pier.

"No, Katy," Slim said to her, pulling her back from the demon. "It isn't him. Not anymore." He pushed her behind him to face the creature that now appeared human. Holding his arms out in front of him, he shouted at it, "You can't take her! I won't let you!"

With one swift motion, the demon swung around, his cape flying, a silver sword flashing out from underneath it, swinging at Slim's arm. In one slice, three of his fingers fell off, taking the ring with them.

Dean was the closest of the three Winchesters, and he ran at the demon, emptying his clip into its back. It shrieked and hissed, turning on the boy, and when it did Dean got one good final shot between the eyes. The impact of the bullet sent the creature reeling back, dropping its sword to the ground next to the fallen ring as it collapsed on the sand, black oozing out of the gunshot wound in its head.

John came running at them and started toward his fallen friend, but Dean saw him first. Slim's eyes were solid black and he was grinning wickedly and reaching for the fallen sword. Dean ran at him, gun raised, ready to fire, but his gun was empty.

"Nooo!" Katy shrieked at him, jumping up and tackling him from behind, arms flying, hitting him as hard as she could. On the ground, he twisted underneath her, turning around, putting his arms up to defend himself. She kept swinging, punching him even harder now in the ribs, in the face, anywhere she could -- adrenaline and rage coursing through her.

As Katy attacked Dean, John ran at Slim, firing his own gun, but he was too far away now to get a good hit on him. Realizing he was outnumbered and outgunned by the Winchesters, the demon now possessing Slim hissed at them and vanished in a puff of smoke.

John ran up behind Katy, pulling her off Dean as Sam stood back and watched, astonished that his brother was being beaten by a girl. John held her arms to her chest from behind her and she was kicking and screaming as he allowed her to release all of her anger, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her. "It's okay," he said into her ear. "Just let it out." He held her tight as she let out one last shriek and finally collapsed to the ground.

John turned to Dean, seeing the questions in his son's eyes. "Dad, was he…" Dean started to say.

"Was he a demon? He was becoming one, yes." John leaned over and picked up Slim's finger from the ground, the ring still on it. "He was a portal. Demons use his body to climb up out of Hell, taking over, possessing him. The only thing keeping them out was this ring," he said.

"Then why did it look like he was about to take it off?" Dean asked. "And why did those… those things attack him when he did?"

"He _was_ taking the ring off," John said to his astonished son. "To pass it on to her," John looked over at Katy, still on the ground, hugging her arms around her body and rocking back and forth. "Next week is her 16th birthday. Without this ring, she'll become a portal, just like Slim did. Whatever those creatures were, I assume they didn't want her to have it." He looked to the sky. "Come on, we've got to get out of here before they come back. Dean, get that sword," John ordered his son as he went over to help Katy to her feet. When she refused, John reached down and lifted her off the ground, carrying her to the car, Dean and Sam running after him, the sword in Dean's hand.

John place Katy gingerly in the back seat and went to the trunk for the can of lighter fluid. He turned to his sons, "Stay with her," he said and headed back for the beach to take care of the demon body that Dean had killed.

Sitting in the front seat of the car, with Katy curled up in a ball in the back seat next to Sam, Dean continued to question his father. "If he was taking the ring off," Dean asked, "Why did he need you here?"

"Not now, son," John said looking at Katy in the rearview mirror.

Back in their motel room, Katy was curled up at the head of one of the two beds, exhausted. John sat at the desk, examining the ring, Dean standing close by. "Without this, she'll be just a shell, Dean, nothing more than a portal for any demon to climb out of Hell and do whatever it wants. Slim couldn't stand the thought of that happening to her. All he wanted…" his voice deepened as the words he spoke reflected his own feelings, not just Slim's, "all he wanted was for her to have a normal life."

Not hearing the sentiment in his father's words, Dean asked again, "Dad, why did he call us there?"

"I was there to kill him when he turned." John answered, knowing this mistake could come at a great cost to his family. He took the ring and walked over to Katy, kneeling down beside her next to the bed. Dean went outside to join Sam. "You okay, Sammy?" he said to his little brother. Sam was standing by the empty pool and watching the sky.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said, not wanting his big brother to see his fear. "You got beat up by a girl, Dean!" Sam started laughing and Dean threw a pretend punch at him.

"Bitch!" Dean said.

"Jerk!" Sam spouted back.

* * *

The following week, Dean was sitting in Katy's family beach house with her on the couch. The sword hung on the wall over the mantle. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Katy," he said to her, reaching into his pocket to pull out a silver pendant, an African talisman. He slipped the leather cord over her neck, using the opportunity to put his arms around her. She held up the talisman to get a better look at it, the silver ring shining on her right ring finger. She'd had to wrap string around it to get it to fit. "It's a protection talisman," Dean said. "Not that you need it," he added, looking at her ring. "But I thought it might bring you better luck from now on."

She smiled at him, "Thank you, Dean."

John came into the room just as Dean leaned in for another kiss. He cleared his throat and Dean jumped up, startled. "Am I interrupting anything?" John asked, winking over at Katy.

"Umm, uh, no, sir," Dean said uncomfortably. "We were just… I was just giving Katy her birthday present."

"Yeah, I know what you were _just_," John enjoyed the opportunity to tease his eldest son. "Go outside for a minute, Dean. I want to talk to Katy."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, looking over at Katy, his eyes imploring her help in getting to stay with her just a bit longer. When she didn't protest John's statement, he turned and walked out the front door.

John sat next to Katy, his hands clasped in front of him. "You do realize, don't you, what will happen if you ever take that ring off?"

Having caught onto the boys' respectful tone to their father, she said, "Yes, sir, I do."

"And you know you can call on me anytime you need anything at all?" John asked.

Katy locked his gaze. "I won't be calling you. Do _you_ realize what you are to my family?"

"Yes, I do," John said, standing. He ran his hands through his hair. Now he was the one who was uncomfortable. "I, uh, I believe my son's waiting for you outside."

Katy stood to go out and meet Dean down on the beach. She turned back to John. "I appreciate the offer, I really do. I know it won't be easy, but I'll be okay. I just..." she hesitated, not knowing how to ask him what she needed, "John, I need you to do something else for me."

He looked down at her. Barely sixteen and this girl had to take on a world of evil on her own. "What is it?" he asked, knowing he would do anything in his power to help her.

"I know that I'm going to be… well, you know. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this," she held up her hand, indicating her ring and her situation. "The fewer people who know, the better." She let her head drop.

John knew exactly what she meant. She was going to be hunted for the rest of her life because of that ring and there was nothing he could do about it. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her on top of her head. "Of course," he said to her.

She looked up at him with sad, blue eyes and suddenly reached her arms around him in a hug that caught him off guard, burying her face in his shirt. He hugged her back and wondered to himself if this is how it felt to have a daughter. Releasing him just as suddenly, she turned and ran out the door after Dean. John stood there for a moment, the weight of this world of evil enveloping both of their families bearing down on him. He silently hoped that just for tonight the two teenagers down on the beach wouldn't feel it too.


	12. Chapter 12

"We've got to get her back," Sam said.

"You think I don't know that? Without that ring, she's a walking 'Get Out of Hell Free' card," Dean growled, frustrated, throwing his jacket onto the bed. How could he not realize who she was? And why didn't he recognize the talisman that _he_ gave her? Their search turned up nothing, even though Rose left on foot and in her usual sleeping attire of only a t-shirt and panties. She had just vanished.

"You can't beat yourself up, Dean," Sam said to him, trying to calm him down. "You can't possibly remember every hunt Dad took us on when we were kids."

"No, not every one, but this one was special. That was my first…" Dean stopped.

"That wasn't your first hunt, Dean. Dad took us on plenty of hunts before that, even with me," Sam said, then realized what Dean was talking about. "Ohhh," he said. "You mean Rose was your…" he stopped mid-sentence seeing Dean glaring at him.

"I promised her nothing would ever happen to her," Dean said. "And now, because of me, she's missing her ring – the only thing keeping her free from those things – and according to your vision, because of me, she's supposed to die…" Dean looked around the room, then went and pulled a wallet and the photos of Rose they'd taken out of his bag. "No way, Sammy, not like this. She's not going to die like this."

* * *

Walking into the local police station, Dean flashed his usual smile at the female desk sergeant. He held up a fake FBI badge, saying, "Excuse me? I'd like to speak to the detective on duty." She looked over at Sam and he held up his own fake badge. She scrutinized both badges and picked up the phone, speaking into it briefly. She smiled back at Dean and said, "It'll be just a minute." 

A few minutes later, a man in an ordinary blue suit walked out. "I'm Detective Lawrence. What brings the FBI our way?" he asked.

Dean handed him the pictures of Rose, "I'm Agent Mallory, this is Agent Quinn. We've got a fugitive on the loose," he said. Sam shot Dean a look that said 'don't go to far with this,' but Dean continued. "She's a critical figure in an ongoing investigation. We need to get an APB out on her right away. We have reason to believe she's in this area somewhere."

Lawrence looked at the photo and then back at Dean. "I've never seen her on the rap sheets before. Who is she?"

"No, you wouldn't have. She's off the grid." Dean said to him. "Look, it's a matter of national security that we bring her in alive," he added.

"National security, huh?" Lawrence asked. "Okay, let's start with a full description then."

Sitting down with Detective Lawrence at his desk, Dean gave the detective Rose's full name and described her and the tattoos in complete detail, down to the scars underneath them. "Yeah, that's pretty descriptive," the detective said. "A crest, you said? With a broken lance?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "Yeah, that's the one," Dean answered. "Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Lawrence said. "Other than the tattoos does she have any other distinguishing marks?"

"Not really," Sam replied, "Except… she does have a little cherry-shaped mole on her…" he looked over at Dean, realizing he shouldn't know this, but he continued, "It's on her left, uh…" Lawrence looked up at him as he flustered his way through the statement.

"Yeah, I think I get what you're saying," he said, then looked Dean and Sam full in the face. "Just how well do you two know this woman? And what is she wanted for again?" Sam looked at the floor, but Dean looked back at him with a grin, saying, "Sorry, we can't tell you that. National security. But, hey, we all have our jobs to do, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, well, I'll get this description out to our men," Lawrence said to them.

"Just remember," Dean said, "We need her brought in _alive_. It's a matter of …"

"National security. Yeah, I understand. We'll do what we can."

"No, I mean it. _Alive_." Dean stated again with authority.

"Right. We'll contact you as soon as we know anything."

* * *

"Dean you really took a risk going in there," Sam said smacking his brother as they walked out of the police station. "Do you realize what you just did?" 

"Yeah," Dean said. "She wasn't in the system, Sammy. Now she is. And…" he added, turning to look back at the station and then looking at his watch, "I alerted her family."

"What?" Sam asked, "How?"

"You saw the look on Lawrence's face when I described the crest on her arm, right? He knows her, just like Rick and those men knew her. And I'll bet you he knows how to contact them. That's what I'm hoping for anyway." They got in the car and waited.

Lawrence came rushing out of the station and hopped in his car, speeding away. Dean followed at a safe distance. He pulled over to the curb as he saw the detective getting out of the car at a nearby restaurant, handing his keys to the valet. Dean looked over at Sam, "You hungry?" he asked.

"Dean, no!" Sam protested. "We can't just go in there!"

"Yeah, you're right, we can't. But the new waitstaff can." Dean grinned over at his brother and pulled around back.

Quickly removing their suit jackets for plainclothes, the brothers went up to the backdoor and walked into the kitchen. Dean stopped one of the waiters, saying, "Hey, we just started working here. Where do we go?" The waiter pointed toward the backroom.

"You can get your aprons and jackets back there," he said.

"Hey, thanks man," Dean said to him and followed where the waiter had pointed.

Carrying a busboy tray and trying not to be seen by Detective Lawrence sitting at the corner table talking to an old woman, Sam looked nervously around the room. He edged closer to their table, his back to them, slowly clearing away the nearest table he could find.

"Yeah, it was them, I'm sure of it," Lawrence was saying to the old woman.

"The Winchester boys? Are you 100 percent certain?" she asked him. The hairs on Sam's neck stood up on hearing their name. Their ruse hadn't fooled Lawrence at all. This not only meant they were in trouble, it also meant the police wouldn't be looking for Rose. They needed to get out of there, fast. Before turning to go, the last thing he heard the old woman say was, "That Winchester boy is bad news! He's her only weakness!"

As Detective Lawrence stood to leave, Sam hurried back to the kitchen only to have a butcher knife thrown just next to his head as he opened the door.

"Hey, Sammy! Glad you could join me!" Dean said as Sam ducked behind one of the kitchen workstations next to his brother. Sam pulled his gun out of his jacket, as Dean stood to fire back at the person throwing the knives.

"Dean, what the hell! What's going on?" Sam said and following Dean's lead, he jumped up and fired as they made their way toward the door.

"No time to talk, Sammy!" Dean answered as another knife flew past his head. "You missed!" he shouted to the knife thrower and ducked back down behind another workstation.

"Yeah, well, if I'd wanted you dead, you would be by now!" Rose's voice called out.

"Right back at ya, sweetheart!" Dean shouted back and jumped up, firing his gun again as he and Sam ran out the door.

* * *

Dean slowly pulled the car past the front of the restaurant, looking in the window at the old woman's table. It was no use hiding now. He saw Rose walk up and hug the woman. Rose was facing the window and she saw them drive by, her eyes a sinister deep, dark blue as she watched them go by. Dean sped off and turned to ask Sam, "Did you get it? Is it close enough?" He turned the car around the corner and pulled into a nearby alley. 

"Hey, I got as close as I could. But, yeah, considering that place is all but empty, I think it's close enough," Sam answered him. He pulled out what looked like a transistor radio and adjusted the volume control. They heard Rose's voice come over the speaker.

"I know, Grams, I know!" Rose was saying. "I'll never leave the family again, I swear!"

"Yes, well, we'll see to that," the old woman -- Grams -- replied to her. "When you came to the funeral, I thought... well, nevermind dear, all is forgiven now." Grams pulled Rose in for a kiss on her forehead. "And, dear, what was that commotion in the kitchen?" Grams asked.

Sam and Dean looked at each other over the radio. The old woman was about to find out they'd been there. They listened as Rose's voice answered her grandmother. "Oh that. That was nothing. I just didn't like what Cook had served up for dinner."

Confused, Dean snapped off the tiny radio. "Why didn't she tell her?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sam said, "But before I walked away, the old woman said something else. She said that 'the Winchester boy' was bad news. And that he was Rose's only weakness. I can only assume she meant you, Dean."

Dean turned the volume back up, but all they heard was the clinking of silverware on dishes as Rose and her grandmother ate together in silence.

* * *

Back in the kitchen, 'Cook' was dead, shot by Dean, and the waiter who had pointed out to the brothers where to go was dead also, a large cleaver sticking out of his back. Black was oozing from the bodies of both men. 


	13. Chapter 13

Sam was back on the computer again. "Well, at least now we know which branch of the family it is," he said, looking over at Dean. He'd been searching city records, old newspaper articles, tax files, anything he could find on the family of Thomas 'Slim' Foster. They never did figure out how neither of them even recognized Slim at the funeral, so Sam was trying to find anything he could on him, Rose and the entire family, starting with the restaurant, The Irish Rose. The records showed it belonged to a woman named Minnie Foster McClure. "That must be 'Grams,'" he said.

"Yeah, well, what else have you got?" Dean asked. "Anything on Slim? We saw him turn demon right in front of us fourteen years ago. Is there any way to know what really killed him?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet," Sam answered. "But I did find this." He pushed the computer away and stood up, putting both hands through his hair. What he had discovered clearly disturbed him.

"What is it?" Dean looked up from Rose's bag. He had been through it countless times before, but he kept looking, trying to figure out everything he could about this girl who had turned demon on him. Her ring swung from a chain around his neck. He walked over and looked at the computer. The screen showed a newspaper article from Dallas. "Four-year-old rescued from house fire," Dean read. "Just two weeks before her 5th birthday, four-year-old Katy McClure was pulled from a house fire…" Dean looked at his brother.

"Look at the date, Dean," Sam said, obviously upset. Dean looked back at the computer screen. The date on the article read, _November 2, 1983_.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

* * *

Dean sat on the roof of the building across from the restaurant in the pre-dawn hour of the morning. An early Spring frost had hit Dallas and he turned his collar to the cold and damp of the early morning air. Sam walked up to him, coffee in hand. "Well?" Sam asked.

Dean took the coffee from his brother, holding it with both hands to warm them. "I dunno, Sammy. I think we did a better job blending in on that last job than we ever could down there." He motioned for Sam to look through the binoculars down at the bustle of delivery drivers, cooks, waiters and staff getting ready for the morning breakfast crowd. Every one of them had eyes of solid black.

They turned and silently continued scoping the restaurant, looking for some kind of way in.

A few hours later, just before lunch, a red Ferrari came screeching up to the valet, catching Dean's attention. Sam was next to him, with an earphone in his ear, holding the transistor radio. Dean watched as Rose jumped out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet. Poking at Sam, he motioned to the restaurant and Sam looked over in time to see Rose greeting a man at the door, hugging him warmly. It was Detective Lawrence. Rose and the detective turned to go inside.

"Here we go," Sam said, pulling the earwig out of his ear and unplugging it from the radio so they both could listen.

Sure enough, Rose and Detective Lawrence joined Grams back at her usual table. The breakfast crowd had thinned out and the lunch crowd hadn't started yet. They were alone in the restaurant. Dean could see Rose hugging her Grams through the large plate-glass window. He almost thought he saw her look up, directly at him and he ducked instinctively.

"How are you, my dear," Grams said as Rose kissed her on both cheeks. "You like your gift, I presume?"

"It's a beaut," Rose chirped. "_So_ much better than that last junk heap I was driving."

Dean muttered under his breath. Rose loved that car and he knew it! Sam made a slight shushing noise at him and waved his hand for Dean to be quiet so they could listen.

"Katy, darling," Grams was saying over the transistor, "I brought you in here for a reason. Detective Lawrence tells me that there were two young men looking for you – young men who seemed to know you _very_ well."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, both of them realizing they shouldn't have revealed how well they did know the woman they were searching for. Neither of them had time to think about it, as they continued listening to the conversation going on in the restaurant below.

"Oh, them," Rose said to Grams, her voice dropping. "You don't have to worry about them, Grams, they're nobody."

"_They are not 'nobody'!"_ Grams insisted, pounding on the table as she said it. "You know who they are as well as I do! You listen to me, missy! _You_ brought those boys here – _you_ clean it up! Do you understand me?"

"Yes'm," Rose replied with the same respect Dean and Sam used for John. "I'll take care of it."

Still hiding behind the top of the building, the brothers didn't see Rose get up to leave, but they heard the scrape of her chair.

"Oh, and Katy, dear," Grams called after her granddaughter, her voice suddenly syrupy sweet, "Please don't kill any more of the kitchen staff. It's an awful mess to have to clean up right before the dinner rush."

"Of course," Rose replied, backing away from her grandmother, heading for the door. "It won't happen again, Grams, I promise."

Dean raised his head to watch Rose heading for the valet, who was already pulling her new car up to her.

"Dean, wait," Sam said, motioning for him to listen to the radio. Grams was talking again, this time to Detective Lawrence.

"That girl always has been a liability for this family," Grams said. "When you take her out _this time_, will you make sure it's something neither of them can recover from?"

The brothers looked at each other in total confusion as Detective Lawrence answered her.

"Yes ma'am," Lawrence said. "I don't know how they've survived this long, to tell you the truth. They should've both been dead a long time ago." Detective Lawrence rose to leave, leaving Grams alone at the table.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who shut off the radio and packed it into his bag. Neither brother spoke, but they both had the same question on their mind. _Neither of them_, Grams had said, and Lawrence had added _should have both been dead_. They looked at each other. Rose and who else? One of them? Instead of voicing the question on both of their minds, Dean said, "Come on. We've got to get ready."

"Ready for what?" Sam asked, still trying to shake off the ominous words he'd just heard Grams say.

"Ready for Rose," Dean answered. "She's coming after us."

They gathered their surveillance gear and swiftly left the rooftop. Rose was coming for them, and Detective Lawrence was going after her. Dean realized this was going to be one hell of a fight.


	14. Chapter 14

**Repeat of Author's note: Aside from all the usual disclaimers... this story contains Extremely Explicit Violent and Sexual Content. (_not _wincest) The author in no way, shape or form condones violence to women. This story is written entirely for fictional and entertainment purposes only. You have been warned.**

* * *

As they loaded their bags into the car, Sam and Dean both realized what a disadvantage they were at here. It seemed Grams had an entire army at her disposal, including the police. Dean held Rose's shotgun, loading her bullets into it. What was it Rose had said about them being from an ancient alter cup? He looked at one of the bullets more closely. He could faintly make out the etching on the casing – similar to the writing on her ring. He loaded up the rest of his weapons, loading two pistols with the last of their silver bullets, putting his bowie knife in its sheath on his hip and checking the flasks he carried to be sure they had enough holy water. He took Rose's butterfly switchblade and put it in his boot, as well as her throwing stars, tucking those into an inner jacket pocket. He examined one closely, and sure enough, it had the same faint etching as the bullets. 

Next to him, Sam was silently loading up his own arsenal – and preparing his mind for what he knew he needed to do. He hadn't told Dean he had been secretly practicing his new abilities. So far he had mastered Max's ability to move things with his mind, but he had been reluctant to practice Andy's mind control. The only people around him most of the time were Dean and Rose and after what happened with Rose the first time he discovered it, he was afraid to try it again.

Almost as if reading his mind, Dean blurted out, "Sammy, I just gotta know. Just how did you know about the mole on Rose's ass?" Dean was looking at him, smirking, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, uh, that," Sam became flustered again just as he had in the police station. He ran his hand through his hair, obviously uncomfortable. "Aww, hell, Dean! You try sleeping next to her night after night! Did you know that she purrs in her sleep? Yeah, that's right _purrs_. Like a kitten. It's just too…." he stopped himself from saying the word _hot_, knowing how much it would sound like Dean. They had decided that first night that Rose would sleep in Sam's bed after the way she reacted in fear to Dean when he came toward her with the handcuffs. Deep inside him, Dean knew she had reason to fear him. Something about her made his blood race and even he didn't know what he might do.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sammy, realizing she had the same effect on him too. His grin grew even larger, "Yeah, I figured as much," he lied. "Specially seeing the two of you curled up together every morning." Dean remembered that it only took three days for Sam and Rose to begin cuddling into each other's arms as they slept. He never asked them about it, and neither of them tried to explain anything to him. He just didn't know how far it had gone. He decided to step over the boundary of his brother's sex life and ask, "Sam," he said, getting serious, "Just how far have you…"

Sam shot him a look that said _shut up now_. "No, Dean, we did not have sex," he said coldly, lying to his brother. "We just… oh, _never mind_! Forget it, Dean, we are not having this conversation!" Sam's mind wandered back to the first night that Dean had left them alone in the motel room to hook up with a waitress at the local bar.

* * *

He had been dreaming that Rose was on top of him, riding him, arching her back and purring in that way that he'd grown used to as she slept. In his dream, he had pulled her down into him, mentally guiding her to go down on him. As he slowly realized that Rose was actually doing what he wanted her to in the dream, he came fully awake, watching her in amazement as she pulled his boxer shorts off him with one hand. 

He wanted to stop but it was too late, his hard shaft was already in her mouth. Her tongue and hand followed his every mental command. He groaned with pleasure as she knew exactly what he wanted. _This is wrong,_ he thought to himself but he continued to command her, mentally forcing her further down his shaft until her lips were at the base. _Lord, most women would be gagging right now,_ he thought and then quickly, _Relax your throat. Just a little further_. He didn't believe she could go any further, but following his order, that's just what she did. _Oh, god, Rose! Purr for me?_ And she began to purr, the vibration against his cock creating sensations he'd never felt before. _This has to stop,_ he thought and Rose hesitated what she was doing. The hesitation only made him want her more.

He guided her with his mind back up to the tip of his shaft, her tongue flicking quickly back and forth then slowly circling the head in hot answer to his silent request. Grabbing the headboard for support, he bucked fully into her mouth again, and she met him as though she knew every move he was going to make before he did. With each thrust of his hips, he went further and further into her mouth and throat, her hot tongue knowing exactly where to lick and when and how hard to suck. _You like that?_ he thought and she let out a little moan of ecstasy in answer to his thoughts.

He groaned again himself now at the sound of her pleasure, almost at the point of release, then pulled on her arm, still handcuffed to the bed behind him, pulling her off him so he wouldn't cum in her mouth. He bit his lip hard, not wanting to release just yet.

_Rose,_ he thought, _Rose, look at me_. She looked up at him with longing in her sky blue eyes. Or was that just the mind control too? _Oh, god,_ he thought inwardly. To her, he thought, _We don't have to… you don't have to do anything you don't want to do._

She sat back on her heels, a pout coming into her lips, "Why, Sam? Don't you want me?" She looked down, not looking at him. _Look at me_. She looked into his eyes. "What do you want me to do?" she asked in a whisper, the longing in her eyes turning into hunger.

Not fully believing how far he could take this, he mentally commanded her, _Strip_. She obliged, slipping out of her black t-shirt and panties in a slow strip tease for him. _You want out of those, too, don't you?_ he mentally teased her, indicating the handcuff on her right arm, and she began pulling on it, nodding, her eyes begging him to undo them. _No,_ he thought and she let out a little whimper and stopped pulling on the handcuffs. She was up on her knees in front of him, her firm body inches away from his as he sat back against the headboard.

_Bend over_, he said in his mind and she instantly dropped on all fours across him, her right arm straining against the handcuffs. He looked down at her round ass as she leaned over him. He traced the outline of the cherry-colored mole on her left butt-cheek with his finger, causing goosebumps to appear on her flesh. He suddenly smacked her ass hard with the palm of his hand. Moans of ecstasy escaped Rose's lips with each strike of his hand as her cheeks turned rosy from the blows. "Oh, god, Sam!" she cried out.

"What do you want, Rose?" he asked out loud, teasing her again. He pulled her back up by her hair so she was sitting upright again, facing him.

"Fuck me," she pleaded, echoing Sam's sentiments.

_Don't you want to play with yourself first?_ his mind said to her and her hand moved instinctively to her crotch. She arched her back, leaning on her right hand as the fingers of her left hand slid her slit open. Sam watched with interest as she began vigorously fingering herself, cream spilling out of her. _Harder _he ordered and she obeyed, moaning with delight. Sam almost couldn't stand the moans coming out of her, wanting to cum himself, so he shushed her quietly, "Shhhhh, don't make a sound." Rose quieted, biting her lip on the verge of a full blown orgasm but she stopped moaning, her eyes imploring Sam to please command her to cum.

"Not yet," he whispered to her, knowing what she wanted. The trembling in her thighs stopped, as he mentally instructed her, _lie back_. She leaned back on the pillow against the headboard, her hand still at her crotch, her orgasm still seconds away. He leaned into her, kissing her hard on the mouth and pulled her hand away from her crotch, putting his own hand inside her now, feeling the wetness of her between his fingers. She reached instinctively for his hard shaft, but he stopped her with a thought, _No, no, no. Not yet,_ and she pulled her hand away. He continued kissing her, moving his mouth down her chin and running his tongue along her neck before reaching her breast. He pulled her breast into his mouth, sucking hard on her nipple, one hand at her throat. _Oh, Rose, you are so wet _he thought as his hand moved inside her. Feeling her throat tighten, he looked up to see her biting her lip but not making a sound as more and more wetness spilled onto his hand between her legs.

Laughing to himself, he realized he had told her to be quiet. "It's okay to tell me what you want, Rose," he whispered to her, "You don't have to hold it in." At his words, her moans escaped her as she breathed, "Fuck me, Sam. Please fuck me now! Please let me cum!" she pleaded again. He laughed out loud this time, grabbing her hair with his left hand and pulling her into a long and passionate kiss, his right hand still between her legs, fingering her clit. She moaned into his mouth, kissing him back hard, her tongue searching his, her hands behind her on the bed.

His brain was on fire with this power he held over her, and so was his body. He couldn't wait any longer. He slid up under her, taking her hand in his and pulling her body onto him. He slipped easily into her and her body moved in perfect rhythm with his in a mind-controlled dance. Just as in his dream, she arched her back and purred at him making his cock grow even harder inside her. In a move he didn't expect, her body tightened around his shaft in response to him. He looked at her in surprise. "How did you?" he asked out loud, while in his mind, he thought, _Oh, my God, do that again_! Following his silent command, her body responded instinctively to him, as she slipped up and down with him in rhythm, tightening around his cock on each outward thrust, her juices spilling out onto him. Just when he was about to cum himself, he commanded her, _Now! Cum now! Harder! No, don't stop!_ he demanded as wave after wave shook her body. He slammed upward into her one last time at his own, final release as her stomach and thighs trembled with her own tremors of pleasure, her moans filling the room.

Rose had never spoken to him about that night, she had simply started curling up next to him when he finally collapsed into bed. With her in his arms, he found the dreams had ceased and he could rest, the blackness of deep, dreamless sleep enveloping him. He slept so soundly in this state that he didn't even realize her own violent dreams woke Rose on more than one occasion. When they did, she would purr quietly to herself to calm herself down so she could sleep again.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN Repeat: Aside from all the usual disclaimers... this story contains Extremely Explicit Violent and Sexual Content. (_not _wincest) The author in no way, shape or form condones violence to women. This story is written entirely for fictional and entertainment purposes only. You have been warned.  
Also: Story is undergoing re-write at the moment, so updates may be sporatic and involve past chapters. This is just a sneak peak of what's coming... Thanks for feedback everyone who helped me figure out what's going on and who've stayed with the story this long.**

* * *

"Dean, it's getting late. I don't know if she's coming," Sam said. They sat in the car, just down the road from the restaurant. Dean had decided if there was going to be a battle, they might as well go to it instead of waiting for it to come to them. 

"Just a little longer," Dean answered, searching the streets for the Ferrari. Rose didn't have the amulet anymore, but he didn't doubt that she had some other way of finding them. If he could just get her back into the car….

Sam's eyelids fell as he fought off sleep. He hadn't rested since Rose, or the demon possessing Rose, had escaped from them.

* * *

Rose was tied, bound and gagged, to what looked like a giant sundial, outside and exposed, her arms and legs stretched to the edges of the cold metal altar beneath her. The darkness of the new moon made it difficult to see anything beyond the alter holding Rose. From the darkness, chanting could be heard as a figure came up to stand over her head, a sacrificial dagger in his hand. 

The figure raised his arms up over his head and plunged the dagger into her stomach, dragging it slowly up her chest, slicing her open up to her breastbone. She didn't make a sound, but in the darkness surrounding them, a man's voice could be heard in a guttural scream as if he, too, were being carved open.

Sam was being held by both arms by dark figures, and no matter how hard he pulled he couldn't escape their grasp. Hearing the cries of his brother next to him, he turned his head away from Rose to see Dean's chest being split open before his eyes. He too was being held back, but as the knife carved into Rose's chest, something sliced through Dean's body and he slumped to the ground in a pool of blood.

Sam struggled against the creatures holding him again and turned back to Rose to see the dark figure raise the dagger a second time, this time slicing through the air and coming down across her throat in one smooth, swift motion. As the blade cut through Rose's neck, Sam felt cold steel slice across his own neck and blood pour down the back of his throat as he stared at the empty air in front of him.

Back in the car, Sam jolted awake, grasping for air, his hands grabbing at his throat. His sudden movements startled Dean, who had still been watching the restaurant. "Sam! Sam!" Dean shouted at him, grabbing Sam by the shoulder. Sam just looked back at him, wide-eyed, his hands still at his throat, his breaths coming in short rasping bursts. He couldn't speak for several minutes and when he finally did, all he said was, "Water."

Dean quickly pulled out the only water they had, one of their precious holy water vials and put it to Sam's lips, helping him drink. The cool liquid soothed Sam's throat, still burning from the feel of the blade and the taste of hot blood. He gasped, "Oh, God, Dean. I know where Rose is."

Dean tipped the vial back to Sam's lips. "It's okay, Sammy," he said. "Just take it easy." He sat back and waited. This was Sam's first vision since the one of Rose at the crossroads. Dean was unaware that Sam had stopped dreaming since he began sleeping next to her.

"She's at her grandmother's house, 20 minutes from here," Sam said. "I don't know how I know, but I know exactly where it is."

Dean reached his hand to the ignition to start up the car.

"No, Dean, we can't," Sam said, still catching his breath, the words coming out of him in short spurts. He looked at his brother, his eyes still wide with fear. "It's a trap. They're going to kill us…. a_ll _of us."

Dean just looked back at him, his hand still on the ignition. "Well, what are we supposed to do, Sammy?" he asked. "We can't just leave her there."

"I think I know a way," Sam replied, his voice and strength coming back to him. He swallowed hard and put his hand to his throat.

* * *

The brothers sat in the car at the end of a long stretch of deserted road looking down at the lights of the lone house. Sam looked up at the waning moon. They had at least three nights before his vision would come true. "I just hope this works, Dean," he said. "This could all still be a trap." He hadn't told Dean the entire vision and didn't intend to. 

"Maybe," Dean said. "But if she's in there, we've got to get her out."

"What a noble sentiment," a voice said from outside the car. Dean turned to see Detective Lawrence and three other men standing next to him. "Don't even think about it." Lawrence said as Dean reached to pull the trigger on the gun under his jacket. He turned to see a shotgun in the passenger window against Sam's head. Slowly he raised his hands over his head, letting the pistol drop from his grip. Lawrence leaned into the window and took it from him. "I thought so," Lawrence said to him. "I was almost hoping you'd try something so that we could shoot you on the spot. Oh, well, this way is going to be so much more interesting."

Lawrence and his men guided Dean and Sam out of the car and marched them down the road to the house.

A few yards from the house, Lawrence pulled open an underground door and shoved Dean and Sam in with the point of his rifle. Moving down into the dark stairwell, they were met by flickering lights in a dark, damp cellar-like room with no windows. They were in an old fallout shelter. Three caged cells had been erected at the end of the room, two of them empty, the third holding a figure who appeared to be asleep. In the center of the room under the flickering, swinging light, Rose's body lay in a heap on the floor, unconscious and naked, her hair covering her face. She had been badly beaten and was covered in blood and bruises, with burn marks on her arms and thighs. She had gashes across her back that were red and whelped, looking like she had been whipped repeatedly.

Dean instinctively started towards her, only to be pushed back by the barrel of Lawrence's rifle. Lawrence motioned for them to move into the two empty cells, hitting Dean in the back of his knee with the butt of the gun when he didn't move from where he stood. Laughing at them as Dean fell to the ground, Lawrence dropped their arsenal of weapons on the table in the far corner as his men locked them into the cells.

Once the men had left the room, Dean and Sam both strained on the locked doors, Dean calling out to Rose, just a few feet away from them. He could hear her raspy breathing so he knew she was alive, but barely.

"I don't get it," Sam said, struggling with the door and hinges of the cell that held him. "I thought she was one of them now."

"I dunno either, Sammy," Dean said, struggling with his own cage. "But right now we've got to get out of here. We'll figure the rest out later."

Just then the doors above them slammed open again and a man came in and unlocked the door to the third cell, the one holding the sleeping figure. As he passed by Rose, he kicked her in the stomach, causing her to whimper in pain. "Feeding time," he said as he kicked her and then went to sit in front of the table where the boys' weapons were to watch.

From his vantage point in the middle cell, Dean watched as a black cloud came up out of the concrete floor and enveloped Rose so that momentarily she was completely enshrouded in it. It seemed to seep into every one of her pores and suddenly her head snapped up, her eyes the same deep, dark blue they had been when the first removed her ring. She crawled on all fours, like some kind of insect towards the open cell door, hissing at Dean as she went by him. He watched in shock as she turned the sleeping figure over and saw that the man's stomach had been ripped open, his intestines and organs spilling out of him. Dean's shock turned to nausea when Rose sank her head down into the man's guts and began gnawing hungrily at his insides. He tried to turn away, but couldn't, instead watching as she fed. A groan caught his attention and he looked from Rose to the man's face only to see his eyes darting back and forth, his head moving from side to side in pain. The man Rose was feeding on was still alive. Dean turned his head to see his brother wretching in the corner of his own cell. Dean just looked away and tried to shut the sounds of chomping, crunching and moaning out of his ears.

Grams came down the stairs into the shelter at the end of Rose's feeding frenzy, followed by four men. Rose scuttled over to her feet. Grams reached down and stroked Rose's hair like a pet. "Still feel like saving her?" Grams asked the brothers. "Now that you know what she really is?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Repeat of Author's note: Aside from all the usual disclaimers... this story contains Extremely Explicit Violent and Sexual Content. (_not _wincest) The author in no way, shape or form condones violence to women. This story is written entirely for fictional and entertainment purposes only. **

* * *

Dean grabbed at her through the bars. "That's not Rose!" he growled. "That's something that's taken over her body and we _will_ save her from it! I swear to God, when we do, we're coming after you next!"

"Not Rose?" Grams asked, amused. "See for yourself." She waved her hand over Rose and the demon possessing her poured out of her in smoke just as it had come in. Rose was left, sitting on the ground, hugging her grandmother's leg and whimpering. Grams reached down and petted her again.

"Let her _go_!" Dean cried out. At his outburst, the other men who had entered the room with Grams stepped forward, holding cattle prods. One of them struck Dean with the cattle prod and he shrunk back from the front of the cage, his anger and frustration at the boiling point.

From the back of his own cell, Sam said, "Why?" Dean and Grams both turned to look at him as he stepped forward toward the front of the cage, but not too close to the guard next to him with another cattle prod. "Why?" he repeated. "Why Rose? Why _us_?"

"You Winchesters think you're all high and mighty and above everything else, that's why!" Grams replied to him, anger in her voice. "And our little Katy... the most precious of all my grandchildren, I must admit... chose _you_ over her own family!" Grams continued, hissing at them. She turned and looked at Rose cowering on the ground at her feet. "One of your own kind! Katy! Why couldn't you stick with one of your own kind?"

"What did you do to her?" Dean growled at the old woman.

"I didn't do anything to her," Grams replied with a syrupy sweet lilt to her voice. "She is as she was meant to be." She looked down at Rose and petted her head again. "Oh, you mean this?" and she dug her fingernails into one of the wounds on Rose's back. Rose cringed and dropped her chest further to the floor, but didn't make a sound. "She refused to do what I told her. This is her punishment."

"Why would she refuse?" Sam asked, pushing Grams for more information. He knew what it was Rose must have refused and he didn't understand what was going on. He had to know. "She's one of you now, so why would she refuse to…" he stopped, realizing he almost let Grams know he was aware of her order to Rose to kill them.

"Curious, aren't we?" If Grams had been a typical grandmother, it would have sounded sweet. From her it just sounded sinister. She laughed. "Because of _him_," she said in a raspy voice. She stepped up to Dean's cage, taunting him. He started forward -- she was within arms reach -- but the guards stepped forward with the cattle prods again. Dean backed off and she held them off with a wave of her hand. "You didn't know?" she asked him. "Your daddy didn't tell you? Oh, of course not. If he'd told you, you might not have fucked her." Dean looked at her wide-eyed. "You think I didn't know? That you were her first?" Grams continued taunting him. "She was _supposed_ to stay with her own kind. _You_ ruined her, left your mark on her! She was _pure_ before you came along and tarnished her forever. Once that veil was broken there was no getting her back, ring or no ring."

Grams continued, spewing venom with her words, "Even I didn't know what kind of connection she already had to you. But when I figured it out… when I realized why our brother tried to kill her as a child -- a _pureblood_ child and he tried to kill her! A pureblood sacrifice is the greatest sacrifice of all if we want to defeat you and all others like you. My granddaughter is my greatest sacrifice. But it will be worth it to see you dead!" she hissed at Dean. "You killed my son and then you killed my brother at Hell's Gate! I _will_ have vengeance! Even if it means sacrificing my little Katy to get it!"

Grams stepped closer, switching tones again from venomous to sweetly sinister. "You want her still, don't you, Dean? My little granddaughter makes you feel something no one else does. You can feel her like a fire in your blood."

Dean looked at Grams as his mind became cloudy. She was right, but how did she know? He shook his head, trying to shake off the strange feeling coming over him. He saw Grams motion to one of her guards and the guard unlock and open his cage. He wanted to rush at this old biddy and wrap his fingers around her throat, but he remained where he stood. He looked down at Rose on the ground looking up at him with sky blue eyes. She had the same fear in her eyes that she had the first night she'd spent with them, knowing how he could hurt her, only now she knew that he would.

Dean strode out of the cell and picked Rose up off the floor.

"Dean! What are you doing?" Sam yelled at him.

"Leave your brother alone, Sammy," Grams said. "He's busy."

"Dean! What the hell?" Sam yelled again. He glared at the old woman, "Don't you dare call me that!"

Dean carried Rose by the waist and threw her hard against the wall, causing the open wounds in her back to begin bleeding freely again. He glanced over his shoulder at Grams, "He really doesn't like anyone to call him that."

As Dean held her against the wall, Rose spoke for the first time, whispering in his ear, begging him, "Please, Dean, please. Not like this."

He pressed himself up against her body, the bulge in his pants aching to be released. Holding her wrists above her head with one hand, he fumbled to get his jeans loose with his other hand. Suddenly he heard Sam's voice in his head, _Dean stop_.

Sam had never used mind control on his brother, but he knew he had to stop him one way or another. Dean hesitated, trying to shake the fog from his head. There were too many people in his head, Grams, Sam and now Rose as she responded to Sam.

_Sam, no_, she said to him. _You can't do this right now. You can't let her know what you can do._ Dean heard her replying to his brother, but saw that her lips weren't moving. The fog in his head grew thicker as he heard Rose and his brother talking to each other in his mind.

_Rose, I can't… I can't let this happen_, Sam said to her.

_No, Sam, get out of his head_, she replied.

_Just everyone get out of my head!_ Dean screamed inwardly, still holding Rose against the wall, but hesitating to go any further with her.

Grams walked up to him and looked him up and down. "You're tougher to break than I thought," she said to Dean. She put a hand lovingly to Rose's hair and Rose pulled her head away in disgust. "Just do it and get it over with!" Grams barked.

Dean renewed his grip on Rose as the conversation between Rose and Sam continued.

_Sam!_ she shouted in Dean's head. _You know what they're going to do to us! You can't let Grams know what you can do!_ she repeated. _She doesn't know your powers yet! You have to wait until the right time! You have no choice, Sam. You have to let this happen._

Dean had his pants open and was kicking Rose's legs apart with his boots. _No! Dean…_ Sam cried out silently.

_Sam, please!_ Rose pleaded, so connected to him now that she could feel his hot tears on her cheeks even though she herself wasn't crying. Outwardly, she didn't make a sound as Dean forced his way into her.


	17. Chapter 17

It was over quickly. Dean came inside Rose in no time, weeks of pent-up sexual frustration spilling out of him as he gave in to Grams' control. Grams dropped him as if dropping a puppet, two of her four men catching him under his arms and dragged him back to his cell, dropping him on the concrete floor. Rose slipped down the wall as Dean released her, leaving a trace of blood on the wall as she slid to the floor.

"Well, don't just leave her there!" Grams snapped at the other two men. "She'll figure out a way to get them out! Put her in with him!" Following his orders, the other two men picked Rose up and dragged her after Dean, dropping her in on top of him. She rolled off him and crawled to the corner of the cell. Her back was still bleeding but she closed her mind to the pain.

Grams looked over at Sam, standing in the middle of his cell, his fists clenched, ready to use all of his powers against her now and get it over with. He held back as she said, "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Sammy. You'll get what's coming to you soon enough. But I'm guessing you already know that, don't you? I can promise you, no faith healer and no deal is going to save you this time." She turned and motioned for her men to follow her out of the shelter, leaving Rose and the brothers alone.

Sam ran over to the corner next to Rose. Dean was still down on the ground, moaning, his pants still undone. "Rose," Sam cried, "Rose! Dean!" He didn't know what to do. He looked from his brother, lying in the middle of the cell to Rose, curled up against the wall next to him.

_Not out loud_ she said in his mind and shot her eyes to the corner of the ceiling. Cameras were watching their every move.

"Oh, my God, Rose, are you okay?" Sam said out loud. In his mind, he responded to her, _why did you stop me? I could have stopped him, Rose! Dean's never going to forgive me for letting him do that to you._

_No_, she responded. _Not yet, Sam. You know what's coming. You have to wait. They can't know, not yet._ Out loud she mumbled at him in a hoarse voice, "Yeah, Sam, I'm fine. Really, I'm okay."

_Are you sure you're okay_? he answered back. _Oh, God, Rose, I'm so sorry! Dean never would have... you know that, right? Not of his own free will. Not like I did... oh, God!_ Sam slammed his head against the wall, feeling helpless, feeling as though both he and his brother had raped her. _Oh, Rose, I am so sorry!_

_No, Sam,_ she rolled her eyes up to look at him. They were leaning against the wall, side by side, the bars between them. She had her knees up to her chest, hugging them to herself. _You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to. And, well... neither did Dean._

From the middle of the cell, Dean moaned and grunted at them, "Would the two of you please shut up!" He felt as if he had the worst hangover of his life.

Sam looked at his brother. _How did he? He can hear us?_ Sam asked silently.

"Of course I can, Sammy!" Dean shouted. Rose moved quickly to his side, pulling him up into a sitting position and putting her fingers to his lips.

Shushing Dean, she explained to Sam, _He's still connected to us_. Squatting in front of Dean, she held his head in her hands. "Dean!" she shouted out loud. "Dean, wake up! You're having hallucinations!"

"Ahhh!" he yelled, holding his head. "Not so loud!"

She held his head up to look at her. _Dean, s_he said into his mind. _Dean, look at me._ He raised his head to look into her eyes. _Don't answer me out loud, Dean. I'm in your head. Do you understand?_ He nodded but his eyes were darting back and forth, confusion showing on his face. Rose looked over at Sam and said aloud, "He's okay. I think he's coming around." She looked back into Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," she said to him. "I'm sorry I got you into this." In his mind he heard her say, _I'm going to get us out, I swear!_

Sam heard her too. _How?_ he answered back. She turned to look at him again, Dean still leaning on her shoulder.

_We know what they're planning, don't we?_ she answered. _And they don't know... about this. We've got two more days until the new moon. We can stop them._

Realizing his pants were still pulled down, Dean quickly pulled them back up and fastened them again. His head was spinning. "I don't know...what the hell happened?"

Rose put her hand to his cheek, not looking at him, instead looking at the floor in front of her. "Nothing, Dean," she said quietly. "Nothing happened. You were hallucinating, that's all."

Sam looked at her in amazement. Her eyes were the sky blue he was used to, but he didn't know what to believe. _Rose, why aren't you… why aren't you possessed anymore? How do we know that you're not? That this isn't some kind of trick?_

Rose looked over at Sam. _Because they want me to feel the pain_, she answered him. _Because of my connection to you, to your family, I can't kill you. I was supposed to kill you._ She let her head drop to her chest.

Dean had finally caught on to when they were talking out loud and when they were in his head. _We have to be sure_, he answered her, figuring out how to respond to them.

_Do you have anything silver?_ she asked him. _Do you have any silver at all?_

_Dean, your ring!_ Sam replied to both of them. Rose saw it still on Dean's right hand. She grabbed his hand in hers and put it to her heart. Pulling it away, she showed them – no burn marks, on her chest or her hands.

_Please tell me that's proof enough_ she pleaded to both of them. Behind Dean, the body in the other cell caught her eye. The man was finally dead this time. _Oh, God! _she thought. _Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick!_ She turned her back to them and curled up in a fetal position on the floor.

"Rose?" Dean said, putting his hand on her shoulder. He could see the open wounds on her back were worse than before, the bloody streaks drying to a deep brown color.

_No, Dean, please,_ she answered him, waving him off with her hand. _Please, not now_.

Dean half crawled, half staggered over to the wall where Sam was leaning. He leaned his head up against the bars. _What did I do, Sammy?_ he asked his brother. _What did I do?_

Remembering Rose's statement, Sam replied, _Nothing, Dean. You were having some kind of hallucination._

Dean looked over at Rose, curled up on the floor of his cell. He knew Sam was lying.

* * *

Rose eventually came out of her fetal position and crawled over to the two brothers. She put herself between them, putting her hand through the bars to hold Sam's hand and leaning her head on Dean's shoulder. She was mentally and physically exhausted, but they had work to do.

_It's easier keeping the connection this way_ she explained to them. Understanding what she meant, Dean reached out and took her other hand that was resting on his leg.

_You two know something you're not telling me,_ he thought.

Sam replied, _You don't want to know, Dean. Trust me, you don't want to know._

Rose felt the anger rising in Dean over being left in the dark. _No, don't. It's what they want. They feed off it, just like they feed off..._ she didn't finish the thought, but both brothers knew what she meant. That was why they had Dean assault her. Grams knew her connection with the brothers was strong. Now they only hoped she didn't know how strong. _Don't think about that_, she instructed them. _Look, we have to find a way to get your weapons back. And, Sam, do you think you can... are you strong enough to control... them?_

Dean looked at his brother. He knew he'd felt him trying to control him earlier. He remembered how it had felt when Andy had done it – how he'd just lost control of his actions even though his mind was screaming at him not to do what Andy commanded.

_Sammy, you could have stopped me!_ he thought. _Why the hell didn't you stop me?_

Sam looked down at Rose but didn't answer him.

Over the next two days, they silently planned what to do as Grams' men came in and brought them food and allowed them semi-private bathroom breaks in the bathroom at the back of the shelter. Grams had the dead body taken out, causing Rose to gag as they dragged the bloody carcass past her. She refused to eat anything they brought.

Twice more, Grams took control of Dean, forcing him on Rose as she fought with Sam to keep him from stopping it. Both times Dean came out of it feeling as though he'd been drugged. Each time grew worse for him... even after he was out from under Grams' spell, he still wanted her, wanted to feel himself inside her again. His body burned for her, but he held it in, knowing that both Sam and Rose could read his thoughts now.

On the third night Grams came in and announced with ceremonial glibness, "It's time." She cackled at the sight of their weapons lying on the table in the corner. "Those aren't going to do you any good now," she said. The men opened the cell where Dean and Rose were held and pulled her out by both arms, holding Dean back with the cattle prods they had used previously. Rose struggled against them, looking imploringly at Sam, her feet barely touching the floor as they dragged her out. _You know what to do,_ was her last thought to the brothers as the men pulled her up the stairs.


	18. Chapter 18

Several hours passed before the men came back for Dean and Sam. Pulling them out one at a time, the men who held them had the strength of Hercules. Neither brother could break free. They passed the empty table where their weapons had been placed on their way up the stairs. With each break they had been given, another weapon disappeared from the table until they were all gone.

Brought out into the darkness, Sam could see flaming torches providing the only light under the new moon. Everything looked as it had in his vision. Rose was tied in front of them on the round alter. Astonished, he noticed the markings on it – she was lying on a devil's trap with fresh blood quickly staining the familiar markings underneath her. She had been beaten again and her wounds were bleeding freely, having been re-opened. He saw her eyes roll up into her head. She was only semi-conscious. Sam realized he was going to have to do this alone.

As the chanting started, he looked over at Dean. Dean nodded to him. The figure from Sam's vision stepped up to the altar next to Rose and Sam realized it wasn't a man at all, it was Grams.

Holding a silver dagger in her hands she looked over at the brothers and gloated, "This ends tonight. But don't worry. I'll make sure it's as painful as possible." She raised the dagger over her head just as in Sam's dream.

Concentrating as hard as he could, Sam willed her to stop before plunging the dagger down into Rose's stomach. Just before her arms came down, three silver flashes flew at her, catching her in the chest. She staggered back and looked incredulously at her chest and the three Chinese throwing stars in her heart and lungs. Black oozed out of her chest and mouth and the dagger fell from her grasp as she looked over to where Dean was standing, free from his demon-possessed captors. Unbelieving that they had broken free, she screamed an unintelligible curse at them before falling to the ground.

Just as Grams fell, an old blue pickup truck came flying into view and Bobby and two other hunters jumped out, Bobby holding a familiar sword. Both brothers moved swiftly now. Dean had Rose's throwing knife clutched in one hand, her switchblade in the other. The men who had been holding him were standing dumbfounded behind him, their black eyes lost in a sea of confusion. The same was true of the two men who had been holding Sam, but they were regaining their concentration as they looked with surprise at Grams' body on the ground. Dean turned and caught each of the men behind him in the chest with the knives in his hands and they, too, fell. He turned and focused on one of the two men behind Sam as Sam grappled with the other, focusing on him with his mind. Dean stabbed the man nearest him with the switchblade as he tossed the throwing knife to Sam, who quickly eliminated the other.

As the brothers focused on their personal captors, Bobby and his men ran up to join them, one holding a sawed-off shotgun, the other with 2 small pistols - nearly too small for his hands - shooting at the still-stunned men. Three fell instantly. Once the four men that had been holding them were dispatched, Dean joined Bobby in a back-to-back fight with two others. Sam crouched beside the alter, wanting desperately to join the fight but knowing he could help more by focusing on the task at hand – disabling as many of them as he could with his mind. He was still unsure of how long the effects of his mind control could last, especially on the possessed men.

Seeing that Dean and Bobby were holding their own against the two men they fought, Sam turned his attention to the other two hunters. They were good shots, but the bullets they used couldn't be wasted and the possessed men moved quickly. Sam slowed them down so they would make easier targets and one by one they fell without a single bullet going to waste. Sam turned back to Dean and Bobby just in time to see one of the men slash at Bobby with a knife of his own. Sam stopped him, but not in time -- a blood red gash appeared in Bobby's side. Once Sam disabled the man, the sword in Bobby's hands came down, neatly slicing his head off. He spun around Dean and sliced the head off the man Dean fought as well, just as Dean ducked down and stabbed the man in the heart with the switchblade.

A commotion towards the house caused all of the hunters to turn in that direction. The sounds of the gunfire had roused those still in the house - more demon-possessed beings who had somehow been left out of this particular ceremony. Looking around, they saw that all 12 men around the alter had been destroyed, the 13th body being that of Grams' herself.

Bobby and the other two hunters started towards the house when Sam stopped them. "Wait! I can do this." Without consideration for the two unknown hunters knowing his abilities, Sam faced the house and clenched his fists. Setting his jaw hard, he closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened his eyes again he saw Bobby standing next to him, looking at him in disbelief.

"Well?" Bobby asked. Sam nodded to him and he and the other hunters went slowly, cautiously toward the house as Sam leaned back against the alter, his mind, body and strength spent. Dean ran over to him to help steady him and the two of them waited what seemed an eternity. Dean knew he should go into the house to help Bobby but something in him caused him to stay with Sam and Rose.

Within minutes, Bobby and the two men came back to them, more blood than before covering the sword in Bobby's hands. "There weren't many, but they were all unconscious. They've been taken care of anyhow."

Dean walked slowly over to Grams' lifeless body and took the dagger from the ground beside her. He saw at a glance that the blade had the same familiar etchings as Rose's weapons. Not taking any chances, he used the dagger to cleanly slice Grams' head off, the head rolling several feet from the body on the hill grade. He reached down and pulled the throwing stars out of her chest, wiping them clean on her robes and putting them back in his jacket pocket. "I _hope_ that was painful for you, bitch!" he snarled at her remains.

Seeing that the battle was over, Sam turned to Rose to cut her free from the alter.

"Sam, wait!" Dean said to him. Sam stopped and looked at his brother with a question in his eyes. "There's a reason she's on _that_." Dean pointed to the devil's trap with the dagger in his hand.

Sam looked down at Rose who looked up at him with deep, dark blue eyes. "Sammy," she pleaded with him in an innocent voice. "Aren't you going to cut me free?"

Sam put his own knife to Rose's throat. "Rose never calls me Sammy!" he growled at the demon. He looked over at Bobby standing next to Dean, the gash in his side staining his shirt, the sword hanging loose in his hand. "Bobby? Did you bring it?"

Bobby reached for a chain around his neck and pulled Rose's ring out from under his shirt, where he'd had it since Dean had given it to him three days before. He yanked the chain off his neck, pulling the ring free and handed it to Dean.

Dean leaned over Rose and took her right hand, still tied to the devil's trap, and placed the ring back on her thumb. The ground underneath them shook along with the metal alter as the demon escaped Rose's body, sinking back down into the ground beneath them, screaming in an anguished cry.

"Rose?" Sam said, taking her head in his hands. Her eyes fluttered and looked at him briefly before closing again. They were sky blue again. Sam looked over at Dean and nodded as they cut her free.

Noticing the wound in Bobby's side, Sam said, "Oh, Bobby, man! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what?" Bobby asked him, his chest still heaving with adrenaline. He put his hand to his side and grimaced slightly as he chuckled at the same time. "I've had worse," he said. He looked at Rose laying unconscious on the alter and Dean leaning over her, stroking her hair. "Dean, she needs to get to a hospital."

Dean just reached into his pocket and pulled out the car keys, tossing them to Sam. "No, it's okay, Bobby. I've got her. Sam, get the car."

"What about the bodies?" Sam asked.

Dean looked around at the bloody corpses around them. "The fallout shelter?" he said. "Bobby, could you…" he didn't even have to finish the question as Bobby and the other hunters began dragging the bodies toward the fallout shelter where they'd been held. Sam went after the Impala, 2 1/2 miles down the road and came back quickly, helping them dispose of the bodies. Going to the house to help pull the rest of the bodies from there to dispose of them, he saw with surprise that one of them was that of Rebecca, the plump, chatty woman from the funeral. Sam looked around for her husband, Lloyd, but didn't see him among the lifeless remains of those in the house. He also noticed that Detective Lawrence wasn't among any of the bodies either, eighteen in all, including Grams and the twelve men from the ritual. He went around to the trunk of the Impala and pulled out their salt and lighter fluid, dousing the bodies as Bobby dropped Grams' body and head in last.

Bobby looked at her face before tossing her head into the pile of bodies in the shelter. "So she was behind this whole thing? Who was she anyway, Sam?" he asked.

Sam looked over his shoulder at the silhouette of Dean, outlined in the glow of the torches, standing next to the alter and holding Rose against his shoulder. "Just some old witch, trying to control the demons that escaped from Hell's Gate," he said. Bobby gave him a look that said he knew Sam wasn't telling the whole truth. Sam doused more salt and lighter fluid down over Grams' head and corpse. Lighting a book of matches, he threw that down in and they slammed the metal doors shut and locked them as the flames shot up. "Thanks again, Bobby," he said, shaking Bobby's hand. "We've got it from here. I'm just glad you were nearby when we called."

Bobby just nodded and said, "I was already in Texas hunting another demon. Nasty bastard, too, out in West Texas, not too far from where you sent me to get this sword. Looked like he'd battled hunters before. He was missing three fingers on his right hand."

Sam paused and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Did you get him?" he asked.

"I'm still standing here, aren't I?" Bobby answered. He handed the sword back to Sam. "How'd you know where to get this, anyway?"

"It's hers," Sam answered, indicating Rose. He wasn't entirely lying when he said, "Her family passed it on to her."

"So she is a hunter after all," Bobby's words were more of a statement than a question. He looked at Dean, holding Rose, and realized the bond between them was stronger than Dean had let on when he called for help a few days before. The brothers had told him the ring turned out to be a protection talisman similar to the ones he had given them just after Sam had been possessed, which was also partially true. Looking around at the elaborate set-up Grams had planned, he shook his head, "Leave it to you Winchesters to find the one person the demons seem to want as badly as they do you. She must be one helluva hunter flying under the radar like that." He turned and motioned for the other hunters to follow him back to his truck. They each shook hands with Sam and handed him the guns they had used in the fight.

As they did, Sam realized what they had witnessed and quickly willed them to forget the entire night. He knew Bobby must trust them, but he wasn't willing to give them the benefit of the doubt in this situation. "Nice guns, aren't they?" he said to the now confused men who just nodded languidly at him. From the driver's side of the pickup, Bobby realized what was going on and called out to them that it was time to go. They blindly got into the truck and Bobby sped off into the darkness as quickly as he'd come.

Sam took the weapons and walked back over to Dean, who lifted Rose gingerly from the alter. Her eyes fluttered open at him. "Hey there," he said softly to her.

She reached her arm around his neck. "Did we win?" she mumbled before blacking out.

Sam drove back to their motel room in silence with Dean in the backseat, cradling Rose in his lap. The blanket he kept in the car covered her naked body, her head on his chest, and he was softly stroking her hair. Sam looked at him every once in a while in the rearview mirror, but Dean never looked up.

Sam made sure no one was around as he unlocked the motel door and motioned for Dean to get out of the car. Dean carried Rose into the room and straight to the bathroom, leaning down to start the bath water, but not letting go of Rose in his arms. She came to and looked around her, the bright light of the room stinging her eyes. She looked down at the water and whispered in Dean's ear, "Not too hot." She rested her head on his shoulder as he adjusted the water temperature. Her hands and feet were nearly blue and when Dean touched them, they felt like ice in his hands. Sam leaned in the doorway watching them, not knowing what to do.

"Dean," he finally said. "Bobby's right. I think she needs a hospital."

"No, no, no," Dean whispered as he lowered Rose into the lukewarm bathwater. "I've got her, Sam." He reached for the motel washcloth and soap, wishing he had something softer to bathe her with. Half conscious, Rose leaned on his shoulder as he softly washed the blood and grime away from her face, arms and chest. He checked the small circular burns on her arms, realizing she had been burned by a cigar. They weren't as bad as they had first appeared, but she had clearly been tortured. Her hair was caked in blood and he leaned her head back on his arm as he poured water over her head, washing the blood out of her hair and checking to see where the blood could be coming from. Not finding any wounds on her head, it slowly dawned on him that much of the blood covering her was from the dead man in the shelter.

Reading his mind, she looked up at him, "Now you know why I'm a vegetarian," she said with a hoarse laugh. The laugh made her start choking and Dean sat her upright again.

"Shhh, stop that," he said to her in a soft voice. She leaned her head on his shoulder again and he pulled her hair away from her neck, bathing and checking the whelps and open wounds on her back. She drifted in and out of consciousness as he cleaned her wounds, never making a sound, only occasionally flinching at his touch.

Sam never left the doorway, wanting to step in and help, but knowing Dean needed to do this. He watched as Dean leaned Rose back again, her neck resting on his arm, her legs bent at the knees. Dean slowly began cleaning her legs as he had her upper body, carefully checking the burns on her legs that matched the ones on her arms. The water was quickly turning deep murky brown from all the blood and Dean let the stopper out and started fresh water filling the tub. When the water level reached its lowest point, Dean reached out and pushed Rose's thighs apart, putting his hand between her legs.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam cried out, starting forward.

"I have to know if she's alright Sammy," Dean answered his brother. He turned his head away from Sam and from Rose, looking at the tile floor. "I know what I did to her. I need to see how badly hurt she is." It slowly dawned on Sam the reason Dean couldn't take Rose to the hospital. A woman brought to the hospital in that condition would surely be given a rape kit. If they took her in, they couldn't stay with her for fear of the hospital calling the police, and the staff would likely take her jewelry off her as hospitals often did. Sam leaned his head back on the doorframe and shut his eyes as Dean continued examining Rose.

* * *

Rose awoke in Dean's arms on the bed, bathed and bandaged and wearing one of his t-shirts. The worst of the cuts on her back had been stitched closed, but she could barely feel the pain. Dean hadn't slept, but was lying on the bed with her in his arms, watching her. She looked up at him.

"Hey there," he said to her again, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Did we win?" she repeated her question from the night before.

Dean laughed at her and kissed her on the forehead. "Yes, we won," he said. "Thanks to you," he added. "Now go back to sleep." She reached her arm across his chest and snuggled deeper into him.

"Good," she mumbled. Half conscious, she said to him before falling asleep again, "I know about the deal you made, Dean. I'm going to get you out of it." She was out again before Dean could even respond.


	19. Chapter 19

Rose opened her eyes and looked up at Dean, still holding her as he slept. Confusion filled her face and she looked around for Sam. They were alone, the morning sunlight through the cracks in the curtains casting light and shadows through the room. She moved to get up, and grimaced slightly as the dull pain from the wounds in her back, arms and legs throbbed through her entire body. Dean sat up quickly, "Rose?" he said, concerned.

"No, Dean, I…" she struggled to a sitting position with Dean's arms gently helping her, "I can still taste…" she stopped, but he knew what she meant and gingerly helped her to the bathroom to brush the taste of human blood and flesh out of her mouth. She stood, gripping the sink while he cleaned and re-dressed the bandages on her back. She barely made a sound, only wincing a few times and trying not to flinch at his touch. He glanced up at every sound, trying to avert his eyes away from her bare chest reflected in the mirror. She looked with surprise at the two pharmaceutical bottles sitting on the counter next to the sink.

Dean saw her gaze and said simply, "Antibiotics." She picked one up and looked at him. "And for the pain," he added as he continued focusing on her bandages. She dropped the bottle into the small trash can beside her.

As he finished with the last bandage, he reached for his t-shirt to help her back into it, but she turned to face him. "Dean, we can't avoid this. I know how you're feeling," she took his face in her hands. "_Don't_ feel guilty here, Dean," she said, looking into his eyes. "This isn't your fault."

"No, you don't understand," he answered her, now gripping the edge of the counter behind her, leaning in close enough that she could smell his musky scent. "It isn't just that. You have no idea how bad I want you, Rose! From the moment I first saw you in that strip club! And somehow your Grams knew it and she made me…" he paused for a moment, the anguish in his voice turning to a growl, "she _didn't_ make me do anything I didn't already want!" He started to move away but she turned his face towards her and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Protesting, he pulled back but she moved her hands to his waist and pulled his body against her, deepening the kiss even more. Dean moaned into her mouth and gripped the counter even tighter as he kissed her back. After several minutes, he pulled back, whispering, "No, your wounds…"

She put a finger to his mouth, saying in a hushed voice, "We'll just have to be careful then."

Dean leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his hands moving to her hips. He slowly moved his hands up her body, feeling every inch of her, one hand staying on her breast while the other moved to the back of her neck. Rose felt her body respond to his touch and she whispered into the kiss, "I want you too, Dean..." she stopped as his tongue quietly slipped into her mouth on hearing her say she wanted him too. His hands continued exploring her body, moving back down along the sides of her waist and around behind her, his fingers slipping deftly into the edge of her cotton panties and lightly tracing her skin. He pulled out of the kiss and his lips traveled down her chin, neck and chest with soft kisses as he leaned down to pull her panties off her, kissing all the way down to her belly and then back up again. He lifted her gently, seating her on the edge of the counter.

Rose reached out and tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it up towards his head and he responded, lifting his arms over his head for her and letting the t-shirt drop to the floor as he moved closer to her, pressing his body against her very lightly, his mouth pressed softly against hers. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and used her legs to pull him more firmly against her. When she did, his boxers brushed against one of the burns on her thighs, just as his arm around her back accidentally touched one of her bandaged wounds. She flinched and whimpered against his mouth.

Dean instinctively pulled away from her, saying softly, "No, Rose… I… we…" but she pulled him back towards her again, covering his mouth with hers to stop his protests. She spread her legs wider and pulled him against her again, feeling his erection through his boxers against her body. When she finally felt the tightness in his body release as he responded to her kiss and her firm hold on him, she pulled out of the kiss and looked into his eyes. "I want you, Dean. I always have. From the first time I saw you and even after you killed…" her voice drifted away, not letting him in on the fact that the demon he killed all those years ago was, in fact, her own father. "I knew who you were and I wanted you anyway. You saved me that night in more ways than you even knew."

As the memory of his first meeting with Rose came back to him again, Dean reached under her legs and lifted her carefully, his strong arms carrying her back to the bed…

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When John ordered Dean out of the room to talk to Katy, he went grudgingly, walking slowly toward the pier where the Impala was parked. Katy's family beach house was located on a private beach with a drive leading up to the pier and a small bathhouse down on the beach. He sat, sulking on the trunk of the car and looked back at the light shining through the living room window where his father was talking to the pretty young blonde who had so infatuated him. Noticing another light on toward the other end of the house, he laughed, knowing Sam was in a back bedroom reading. Dean did not understand his younger brother's obsession with learning. Every chance he got, Sam was reading or studying. He looked up at the sky and wondered if the flying demons would find them here. The sun was sinking low off to his right and the moon was slowly becoming visible, high in the sky already.

He heard a muffled bang back at the house and turned to see Katy running towards him. She had let the screen door slam behind her in her hurry to join him. She trotted up to him, laughing and twirled around just as she reached the car. She knew that for tonight, at least, she was free. Still laughing, she said to him, "Do you always do what he says?"

Dean put his hand through his hair as he slid off the trunk of the Impala, watching her twirl around him, "Well, yeah, I do. He's my father. Don't you do what your father says?"

Her expression darkened for a moment and her eyes narrowed at him. "No," she answered in a hushed voice and then her mood brightened again. "Never _ever_ again!" she shouted to the sky as she began to twirl, barefoot, on the sand with her arms outstretched. She stopped and faced the water, still shouting gleefully, "Did you hear that?" she called out to the waves, "Never again!" She turned back towards Dean, giggling slightly as he caught her up in his arms and pulled her in to kiss her. Whoever this girl was, she fascinated him. He wanted to protect her from whatever the evil was that chased her and he wanted to understand how she could be so vulnerable and yet so full of life at the same time. She kissed him back, shyly and tenderly, then pulled away from him. His arms protested, not wanting to let her go. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, saying, "I need music."

They were standing next to the bathhouse now and she went inside briefly, coming back out with a boombox and a cardboard box full of cassette tapes. Holding the box away from Dean so he couldn't see the contents, she leaned in and selected a tape, putting it into the machine and pressing play. Metallica's _The Four Horsemen_ began to play. Katy giggled at him. "I love these guys," she said, blushing and began to dance around Dean to the music. As the next song, _Enter Sandman_, started, she stopped dancing and slid up to him. Dean stood still, watching her, in awe of her energy, but when she moved in close, he couldn't contain himself. He pulled her down on the sand, kissing her as though she were his last meal. When his hand slipped under her top, she whimpered slightly at him but didn't protest. His hand explored its way under her blouse and over the top of her bra as he kissed her desperately. He slowly, hesitantly, reached his hands down to the edge of her blouse and tugged it towards her head. Moving with him, she sat up enough to give him the room that he needed, lifting her arms over her head as he slid her top off. She put her arms around his neck as she brought them back down and pulled him back on top of her, kissing him just as desperately, the silver talisman he gave her pressing against her bare skin.

Unbelieving that she was responding to him and not pushing him away, Dean boldly reached his hand down to unfasten her jeans, looking into her eyes for any sign that he should stop. Again instead of protesting, she lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans off too. He hesitated as he felt her legs, one of them badly scarred. She pulled him back up to her, embarrassed now that someone had seen and touched her leg. She answered the question in his eyes, "It's nothing, really. I was injured as a child. So long ago, I don't even remember it," she lied to him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Forgetting the scar, he kissed her back, his cock growing painfully hard against his jeans.

With Dean on top of her, hungrily kissing her lips, her face and her neck, fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, Katy whispered into his ear, "This hardly seems fair! I'm half naked and you're still dressed." She tugged at his t-shirt. Dean obligingly sat up over her and pulled his shirt off, grinning. Katy let out a small gasp at the sight of his young, muscular body. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back down on top of her, their hands and mouths exploring each other tentatively at first, then growing in intensity. Dean felt Katy shiver underneath him and realized she was cold, laying exposed on the damp sand. Still kissing her, he pulled himself up off her, pulling her up with him as _The Thing That Should Not Be_ began playing on the boombox.

Katy protested as Dean pulled himself up, but he kept his lips against hers, pulling on both her hands. She stood with him, uncertain of where he was going. He lifted her tiny body in his arms and whispered, "You're cold. There's a blanket in the car." He carried her to the car and placed her in the back seat, quickly shedding his jeans and underwear before climbing in after her. Katy slipped out of her bra and panties just as frantically, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand, his waist with the other, and pulling him in on top of her. She kissed him hard and desperately, wanting him as much as he wanted her. "_Oh, God, Katy_," Dean gasped when he finally slipped into her silky wetness just as the sun sank out of sight on the horizon.

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Rose reached her arms up around Dean's neck as he held her tightly against his chest, kissing her all the way to the bed. Determined not to flinch again, she spread her legs away from him. The small round burns on her thighs weren't severe but were raw to the touch. Knowing he couldn't lay across her, Dean sat on the side of the bed, shifting slightly so that she could get her knees on either side of him. His hands began exploring her soft body again, his eyes watching closely so he wouldn't touch her wounds again. Seeing him studying her body, Rose sat back on his lap, purring at his touch. His gaze moved to her face and he kissed her, tenderly at first, then deepening as his hunger for her grew stronger. She kissed him in return, her tongue exploring his mouth and began to softly suck on his tongue. When she did, a small growl rose in his throat.

With their bodies pressed against each other, Rose could feel Dean's erection grow even harder through his boxers and her body responded in kind, soaking the outside of them with her wetness. She pulled out of the kiss and pushed him roughly back on the bed. Dean was determined not to hurt her so she knew she had to take charge and guide him around her wounds and her throbbing, aching back. Still feeling the effects of the painkillers he had been giving her since they arrived at the motel, it was a dull pain and she was able to ignore it for the most part, focusing instead on the burning sensation in her groin as she needed to feel Dean inside her – the real Dean, not a mind-controlled robot. The Dean from her memories.

Dean pushed himself back on the bed when Rose pushed him down so that he was lying in the center of the bed, looking up at her, longing in his eyes. As he pushed back, she grabbed the waistband of his boxers in both hands and pulled them off him, her hands sliding down his legs. He groaned at her touch and reached out to pull her towards him. Taking her hands, he pulled her down onto his chest, wishing desperately that he could envelop her in his arms. Instead, he kept his hands on the backs of her arms and her shoulders, steering clear of the burns on her forearms. Having burned himself more than once when lighting a corpse on fire, he knew that burns were best left un-bandaged to heal. Rose moved with him as he guided her down, laying herself across his chest as one of his hands moved to the back of her head, pulling her in to kiss her again.

Just as his tongue began exploring her mouth, Rose moved her hips and slid herself down onto Dean's cock. She slipped up and down on the outside of him a few times, letting him feel her wetness until he couldn't stand it anymore. Grabbing her hips, he plunged himself into her. His hands guided her hips, thrusting hard into her with both his tongue and his cock.

"Dean," Rose sighed into his mouth. Her eyes searched his as he continued thrusting upwards into her.

He slowed his thrusts and moved one hand to her face. Sliding his thumb over her bottom lip he whispered, "Shhh, Rose, please. Please let me fuck you."

Her eyes widened and she sucked his thumb softly into her mouth causing him to bite his bottom lip with pleasure, his eyes half closed. She moved her hips against him and leaned to his ear. "Harder," she growled and buried her face in his neck. Dean only hesitated a second before complying, quickly thrusting hard and deep into her, driving himself almost to the brink before slowing down again. "No, Dean, please don't stop!" Rose gasped.

Taking her face in his hand, Dean kissed her tenderly, "I don't intend to." His other hand on her hip guided her up so that she was on all fours leaning over him. He slid down now and began sucking lightly on her breast, flicking over her nipple with his tongue until it was as hard as his cock. He did the same with her other nipple, still teasing the first with his fingers and then slid himself down even farther so that his head was between her thighs. Taking both her hips in his hands, he moved her slowly down until his mouth was against her wet sheath. Expertly guiding her, he rocked her hips against his mouth, his lips lightly kissing her slit. Parting his lips, he licked his upper lip in anticipation, whispering, "Rose, you are so beautiful." His breath on her sheath made her moan out loud.

As Dean's tongue found its way into her, softly kissing her opening, Rose arched her back and cried out, "Dean, dear God, please!" She tried to move her hips against his face, but his strong hands held her steady, not letting her move further than he wanted her. Dean smiled to himself, regaining his control with Rose begging him now instead of the other way around. He continued kissing her soft wetness, gently at first, then harder, his hands moving her hips again, until he was roughly tongue fucking her, hard and fast. Hearing her moans turn to whimpers, he knew he had driven her to the brink also and that's when his tongue found its way to the top of her opening, quickly finding her clit and flicking over it lightly. Her legs shuddered and he renewed his grip on her hips, holding her up as his tongue began moving harder and faster over her clit than he had with her pussy. He slowly started to suck on her clit, softly at first, listening for her reaction. Her whimpers became gasping breaths as she screamed, "Dean! Please!" Hearing her screams of pleasure, he sucked even harder, not letting go with either his arms or his mouth as her legs and her body shuddered and tightened over him. Waiting for her release, he slowly, softly licked at her clit and then her pussy again, holding tight to her hips.

Rose grunted with her final release as Dean continued licking softly at her. When she finally stopped trembling and gasping, he slid out from under her and quickly turned around, barely letting go of her hips as he turned, grabbing them again from behind, holding her up. "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered and not waiting for an answer, drove into her hot wetness from behind.

Rose pushed herself back against him, shaking her head hard in answer to his question, "No, Dean, please, don't ever stop!" Unable to move, she gasped and panted out loud with each driving thrust. Her legs began quivering again and she tightened involuntarily down on his cock as he came hard inside her.

Lowering her down to the bed, Dean lay beside her, breathing heavily. He took her hand in his and lightly kissed her fingers, one by one. "I won't stop, baby," he said. "I just need a minute to catch my breath."

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Katy stood on the beach, looking out over the water, the blanket from the car wrapped around her as the last lines of _Nothing Else Matters_ sounded from the small boombox. The tape hissed for a few seconds and then clicked off. Dean stood behind her, his young arms wrapped protectively around her. He noticed how large the moon looked high in the sky over the gulf waters. With the full moon only two days away, it lit up everything around them, shining down brightly on the cool clear night.

Dean leaned down and whispered to her, "Katy, I swear I won't let anything ever happen to you." He softly began singing into her ear, "If you could see inside my heart, Then you'd understand, I'd never mean to hurt you, Baby I'm not that kind of man."

Katy turned towards him, saying with her head down, "Dean, please…" but he lifted her chin with his finger to look into her eyes as he continued singing.

"I might not be a savior, And I'll never be a king. I might not send you roses, Or buy you diamond rings. But if I could see inside you, Maybe I'd know just who we are. Cause our love is like a hunger. Without it we would starve. In a world that don't know Romeo and Juliet, Boy meets girl and promises we can't forget, We are cast from Eden's gate with no regrets, Into the fire we cry," he pulled the blanket off her naked body, letting it drop to the sand and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, swaying with her as he sang the chorus, "I'd die for you, I'd cry for you, I'd do anything, I'd lie for you, You know its true, Baby I'd die for you."

Katy felt Dean's cock grow hard against her skin as they swayed together. She turned and pulled him down onto the blanket, pulling him back on top of her again. His eyes searched hers as he stopped singing. "Are you sure?" he asked, uncertain, remembering how she had started crying earlier that night in the car. "Katy, I never want to hurt you," he sighed.

"No, Dean, no, you didn't," she breathed at him. "It was just my first… please, Dean! I need you!" she pulled him down and kissed him hard on the mouth as he found his way into her again.

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Rose lay across Dean in the sleepy afterglow of their lovemaking, her legs straddling his waist, her head tucked up under his chin. He stroked her hair with one hand, with his other arm wrapped protectively around her waist, carefully avoiding her bandages. He kissed the top of her head. "Why didn't you just tell me?" he whispered into her hair.

Rose felt hot tears stinging her eyes and clenched her jaw to hold them back. She didn't answer him, she merely shook her head fiercely against his neck. Dean felt her entire body tense at his question. Holding her tightly against his chest, his eyes searched the ceiling for answers she wasn't ready to give.


	20. Chapter 20

Rose awoke to full sunlight streaming into the window. They had spent the entire day and night before in each other's arms and now Dean was gone from their bed. She looked around to see him sitting at the desk carefully cleaning and examining his guns. If she wouldn't talk to him, this was all he knew to do. Seeing her stir, he glanced up but didn't say a word. She sat upright on the bed, holding the sheet to cover herself although she didn't know why. They were still alone. "Get Sam." She said. "It's time you knew the truth."

Dean and Sam sat in the motel chairs and waited for Rose to say something, watching her in anticipation. She was pacing and wringing her hands, fully dressed in jeans and one of Dean's black t-shirts. She twisted the ring on her thumb as she always did when she was nervous. Her pendants swung freely with each step. She didn't want to tell them but time was running out. She decided to start there.

"There's not a lot of time left, so you deserve to know..." she started. Dean and Sam looked at each other as her words from before came into Dean's mind, _"I know about the deal. I'm going to get you out of it."_

Dean stopped her. "What you said the other night. You can't stop this. I won't let you!" his voice trembled.

Sam looked at Dean surprised. He was unaware of what Rose had told Dean. "Dean, what? What did she tell you?" He looked at Rose, still pacing, her back to them now. He had allowed Dean the time he needed, trying to give him some space, but Rose was right. Time _was_ running out and he felt helpless, not knowing if just having faith in his vision was enough. It had been nearly two months since they first found her, since his vision that Dean would live and she would die and so far no research he had done showed him just how that would be possible. The fact that their families were connected somehow, and that hers was a family possessed by demons, with FBI connections confused him all the more.

"She told me she knows about the deal. And that she knows a way to stop it..." Dean answered his brother. "But, Sam, your vision!" Dean looked at Rose now too, but she didn't turn around. "I know you want to help," he said to her, "but you can't! I won't be responsible for another..."

"And how do you think I feel, huh?" Rose turned on him, anger in her voice. "You! You have no idea..." her voice fell and she sat down on the corner of the bed, her head dropping into her hands. "It's my fault you're even in this mess," she whispered.

Sam jumped to his feet and in one stride was at the bed, sitting next to her. He put one arm across her shoulder, above the bandages, as her body heaved with sobs. He looked over at Dean with a pained look on his face, not knowing what to do or to say. Just knowing that this was the one person in the world who _could_ help Dean, and that she _wanted to_, but they both knew the cost. His vision had made that clear and he knew Dean wouldn't let it happen. Dean would rather die himself than let another person die in his place. Dean just sat in the chair across from them, watching his brother and his lover, a feeling of helplessness running through him. He looked down at his hands, unable to move or to say anything.

The sobs subsided and Rose raised her head, her eyes bloodshot, snot running from her nose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Not looking at either of the brothers she said, "You know what I am. What I'm capable of..."

"Yeah, but that isn't you!" Sam protested. "That has nothing to do with who you are!"

She still didn't look at him, instead turning her back to him, pushing his arm off her with a shrug of her shoulder, her face contorting as the move caused pain to shoot through her back. The painkillers Dean had given her had worn off and she refused to take any more. Sam released her, but didn't move from his spot on the bed next to her. With her back to him, she continued, looking only at the blue carpet on the floor.

"It has everything to do with who I am," she said softly. She stood and walked over to Dean's bag, pulling out the photographs of her from the wall of her family home in Abilene. Handing the one of the baby over to Dean, she instructed him, "Look at it. _Look_ at it!" Dean was surprised at first that she knew he'd taken them, but he examined the photo carefully, his eyes finally spotting what she wanted him to see. He'd never noticed it before. His eyes grew wide looking up at her in disbelief and confusion. "I was _born_ evil, Dean. I didn't just turn that way!"

Sam stood and looked over Dean's shoulder at the photo gripped tightly in his brother's hand. He, too, saw what Dean was looking at. The baby looking up at them had deep, dark blue eyes that cast no reflection off the camera flash. The child in the photo was pure demon.

Sam looked confused now. "But when we met you when we were kids," he said. "You weren't evil then…"

Rose scoffed at Sam's question, knowing it was a valid one. "The demon leaves right around the time a child is able to walk and talk, waiting to return later." She half-snorted, half-laughed. "I think even _they_ don't want to deal with a demon toddler running around!"

"So on your 16th birthday…?" Sam started to ask.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that what they told you? That it was because of my 16th birthday?" She looked at Dean, still sitting in the chair gripping the photo. She knelt on the floor in front of him, putting herself between his legs, as close to him as she could get. He let the photo slip from his fingers and fall to the floor, putting his hand to her cheek.

"You're not evil," he said to her in a hushed growl, willing his words to be true. He stroked her hair and looked into her sky blue eyes. There was nothing evil at all about this woman in front of him, he knew that much. Troubled, yes. Evil, no.

Rose put her hand over his on her face, closing her eyes at his touch. "Not anymore," she whispered back to him, "because of you." She glanced up at Sam standing over them and looked back into Dean's eyes. "I was meant to lose my virginity… to another demon. If I had, I would have been turned forever. Your father cast a protective circle around us that night, keeping the demons – keeping my family away from us." Her eyes searched his, knowing this was not what he needed to hear about his first sexual encounter, that it had been planned by John. She continued, "Dean, it was the _goodness in you_ that kept me from becoming pure evil, even after the demon regained control."

She pushed up from her heels, standing. "There's more," she said. "What's going to happen… at the crossroads…"

Dean rose now too, leaning into her to finish her sentence for her, "…_nothing_ is going to happen!" he growled at her, "I'm going to keep my end of the bargain, end of discussion!"

She didn't shrink back from his angry stance, instead met it with her own. "You may not have a choice!" she retorted. "What will happen has already been foretold!" She stood facing him, her head turned up in defiance at his stubbornness.

Taking all this in, Sam spoke up as Dean and Rose faced off in a staring contest, "What?" he said. "Rose, what are you talking about?"

Still staring at Dean, she answered, "The Prophecy is about him."

Sam continued his questions as Dean continued staring her down. "Prophecy?" Sam asked.

Not taking her eyes off Dean, she replied,  
"In the twilight of the day  
At the setting of the sun,  
Mortal enemies, now lovers  
And the two shall become one.

Once the veil is broken  
And the gates are opened wide  
Good and evil walk together  
And fight now side by side.

The world will live in turmoil  
If they both walk the land  
And in that final battle

One will fall and one will stand.  
Once the fight is over  
And the morning light is nigh  
Though their love will live forever  
One must live and one must die."

She watched Dean's face as she spoke the words, seeing the recognition come over him that it was indeed about them. She left out the final verse:  
_With just a tiny heartbeat  
__Though the mother they do mourn  
__Man will face his own destruction  
__If the pureblood child is born._

Knowing what he was thinking, she added, "You think _you're_ the one meant to die? Why? Because you should have died before?"

"_That's right!_" he growled at her, his hands clenched in fists of rage. "I should've been dead a long time ago, and this never would've…"

Rose interrupted him in a screaming match with him now, "_I died first, Dean!_" Her voice quieted as her words stopped him in his tracks. She repeated herself in a hushed whisper, "I died first." her blue eyes filling with tears as she looked into his eyes, dark green with rage. His face softened as he looked at her, his eyes searching hers. She pulled her t-shirt down, revealing her yellow rose tattoo on her left breast and the jagged scar it incorporated into the leaves, petals and thorns. With a look of determination on her face to match Dean's, she said to him, "Lightning strike. Straight to my heart. I was dead before I hit the ground."

Dean just looked at her incredulously. He raised an eyebrow finally in a question, "And just how do you know…?"

Before he could even finish, she answered his question with a question of her own, "Do you think the other night was the first time my family tried to use me to kill you? Just the fact that we're both still alive is what brought all this about in the first place._ 'The world will live in turmoil, If they both walk the land.'_ The fabric of time and space has been ripped by the magic it took to bring me back and to kill you. It's what made the Gate so easy to open."

A look of recognition crossed the faces of both brothers. What was it Grams had said? _"A pureblood sacrifice…"_ Moving around to face her, Sam asked, "What did your Grams mean when she called you 'pureblood'?"

She looked at him with a sad faraway look in her eyes. "My family was in the Crusades. But the bloodline goes back beyond that, back to the ancient Celts. Back then, one of my ancestors made a pact with a demon – offered control of all his offspring in exchange for power. They sealed the pact with a drink from the demon's own cup, which he then gave to my ancestor as a reminder of his offering. Around the time of the Crusades, the family split into two factions – one fighting for redemption from what our ancestor had done, the other embracing it. The cup was melted down and re-forged, each half of the family getting part of it, but not before Richard I himself drank from it."

"Your ring?" Dean asked, taking her hand in his.

"And my weapons." She allowed Dean to hold her hand for the moment studying her ring and her hand. "Most of the family inter-married with other humans, of course, weakening the bloodline. But one line from each side remained 'pure'. I wasn't just born, I was bred from the bloodlines of both sides. My mother…" Her blue eyes filled with tears that now streaked down her face and she pulled her hand away from Dean. She quickly changed the subject. "It's why Grams wanted you dead. No other hunters have ever killed as many of our family as the infamous Winchesters." She laughed slightly and wiped the tears from her eyes, looking up at Dean. "The very man I fall for is the one man my family wants to kill. And I'm the one who can stop them. Maybe they shouldn't have been so quick to breed me after all? My cousins and I…"

"Cousins?" Sam asked.

She looked sideways at him. "I have family all over the country but my cousins and I are the only pureblood. Uncle James – the one I told you about before – he had two kids, Meg and Charles, but I don't know where they are now. Why Sam?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance that made her uneasy. She didn't just hear the name on both their minds, she felt it – _Meg_ – and knew instantly that Meg was dead, and Charles too. "Oh," she said softly, then her eyes grew wide, looking at Dean. "Oh! You? Oh, Dean, I didn't know! I swear!" Her reaction was more of guilt than anything.

Changing the subject, Sam asked, "And your other scars?"

She pulled the right sleeve of the t-shirt up, showing the heather and barbed wire. Pointing to that and to her right leg, where they knew the other tattoos of the ankh, rose and blue scorpion were, she said, "Car crash. I was in a coma for days. I died twice after that one and both times they brought me back." The brothers looked over her head at each other, their eyes wide. _Twice_?

She raised the shirt, revealing her stomach and the horned lizard with its own jagged and deep scar.

"Don't tell me," Dean said, the growl back in his voice. "Someone stabbed you?"

"No," she said, looking up at him. "Surgeon screwed up in a routine surgery. Sliced my spinal cord. I recovered in just a few days after they declared me dead on the operating room table."

"And your leg?" Dean asked, indicating the flaming dragon and the worst of her scars. He remembered the scar now, from long ago and how she'd been ashamed of it when they met as teenagers, had tried to hide it from him. The same thought crept slowly into the minds of both brothers as they recalled the article of Rose being pulled from a house fire.

"From a fire when I was four years old," she answered, letting her head drop from his gaze for the first time. She whispered in a hushed tone, "_That_ one worked. I'm the reason your mother's dead."

Refusing to listen to another word, Dean grabbed his jacket and raced out the door. Wanting to follow him, Sam chose to turn and face Rose instead. "When you say you know how to help him," he said to her.

"I do," she answered as she gathered her things into her bag. She stopped and turned to face Sam. "Please believe me," she looked into his eyes, seeing the pain he was in, "I did not want this."

Sam sat on the edge of the bed. "Rose," he said, tears welling in his eyes, "do you know how to stop the Hellhounds?"

She looked long and hard at him before answering. "Yes, Sam, I do," she said. "But it doesn't matter. It won't do you any good. It isn't the Hellhounds that will be coming after Dean. Every demon that you ever sent back to Hell, every demon that escaped and every member of my family wants to see him die. They're going to be there to drag him down to Hell themselves." Rose eyed his reaction. "This is the battle you've been waiting for. It's going to happen at the crossroads."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then grabbed her backpack, slipping the strap cautiously over her neck to hold it at her side. "You just get Dean to the crossroads," she said, gripping her amulet in her fist. "I'll take care of the rest."

Sam didn't move from the bed for several minutes after she walked out the door. He didn't see the figure that came around the corner and walked up to Rose. Already in the bar down the road, neither did Dean.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" the man said to her.

Looking up at him, Rose sighed and said, "Yes, I'm ready." She turned and started walking holding her bag gingerly at her side, John Winchester walking alongside her.

A car drove by them on the road. "Whoa, hey!" the passenger said to his friend. "That girl was hot! Why didn't you stop and pick her up? We could've had some fun with that one!"

"I dunno, man. Something just didn't feel right about it," the driver replied, looking in his rearview mirror at the petite redhead walking alone down the road.


End file.
